Time is Never Planned
by in perpetuum
Summary: The boys and girls of Briarwood Academy attempt to right their wrongs and mend relationships as the end of their sophomore year approaches — part II of The Lost Boys / "Once you find a friend like that—one that puts you on the highest pedestal, but still manages to see your flaws—you can't get rid of them."
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the second installment of _The Lost Boys_! It took me almost two years to get to this point, and it's all very exciting. I mean, when I wrote the first chapter, I never actually thought there would need to be a part two, but I digress. I'm here, you're here, and I thoroughly fucked up everyone's lives in 42 chapters.

Anyway: hello, hello—I hope you haven't forgotten about me, or _The Lost Boys_, but if you did, feel free to spend some time over there before you dive into this. I had to read the last few chapters to remember what I was going for, too, so.

**Here are a few notes—**

This will be shorter than the previous story. I hope. I really hope. I'm crossing my fingers.

When I planned this out back in 2012, I had specific pairings and specific scenes for each one of them, and as time went on, those things changed. Cam was originally supposed to be with Alicia, in case you were wondering, but, as you can tell, that didn't work out so well. As I was planning this out, a lot of characters suddenly didn't want to mesh well with each other, and a few of the future pairings I had in mind fell apart. I fixed it to the best of my ability, but don't be surprised if there's a twist you didn't want—I couldn't control it.

A lot of things I avoided in _TLB_ will come into play here. I don't want to tell you everything, but Todd _will_ be back. A lot of you were asking about him.

Please enjoy yourself as I attempt to conclude this whirlwind of a story, and thank you for being patient with me throughout this whole adventure.

x Tawni

* * *

"So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned.  
Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land."  
- J.M. Barrie, _Peter Pan_

* * *

_Alicia—_

_I owe you the biggest apology. _

_We were both threatened by each other, but know this: You were always Massie's number one. Even when she kicked you out of the group, even when you stabbed her in the back—it was always you. I guess I was jealous of that; it was like you could do everything wrong, but in Massie's eyes, you couldn't. I'm sure you could commit murder and it wouldn't matter._

_I never had a friend like that, not even back in Florida, and I wanted one so badly. I wanted to steal yours. It worked for a while—it was suddenly MassieandClaire, not MassieandAlicia, and you fell into AliciandOlivia to make up for the loss. It didn't last long. Wasn't supposed to, I don't think. Once you find a friend like that—one that puts you on the highest pedestal, but still manages to see your flaws—you can't get rid of them. _

_So I distanced myself. Kristen had Dylan, you had Massie, and I abandoned Layne for you guys because I thought it was where I belonged. I'm not placing any blame on any of you, truly, when I say the Pretty Committee was never for me. I thought being popular would solve all my problems, but it didn't. _

_I dated Josh because I knew you would get mad. I didn't even like him. There's something a little off about him, but I can't quite place my finger on it, and he looks at Massie like she's made of stars. A lot of boys do that. I don't like that either._

_He's all yours, if you want him, but I don't think you do. Chris, it seems, has caught your eye, and it's cute, Alicia. It really is. _

_You always told me I would be manipulated easily, but I thought that was just your way of asserting some sort of dominance over me. It's true, and I hate myself for believing I was indestructible when I wasn't. The DSL Daters have something against all of you and I only fueled their fire by spilling all your secrets. I want you to know I don't think you want all the attention you get from your body, and I don't think that's the only thing that defines you. Skye caught me at a bad place that day, and she wanted to sever all ties between me and you. She wanted to ruin you guys. Wants to, still, because she hasn't done it yet. Here's some advice: Become closer than ever with the rest of them. Don't let her come between you, because she will try, and she may succeed if you guys don't trust each other to the fullest._

_And I told Skye you slept with Danny. You probably know this by now, but Danny isn't the guy he says he is—he likes to sleep with virgins. It's like his thing—and he and Skye are always, always, always together. Even if they're on a break. But Skye is pissed because he slept with __you__, and she hates you. I don't know why._

_I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even forgive myself. I just want you to know that I don't believe any of it—I know who you and Massie and Dylan and Kristen are, and it's not what everyone says. I don't hate you, Alicia. I think I hate myself._

_I'm sorry.  
Claire_

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.

.

"When are you coming home?" Alicia Rivera asked, twisting the cord of the old-fashioned landline around her finger. She hadn't even known this phone was real, let alone_ worked_, and she hadn't used one since the fifth grade, but she wasn't going to complain.

Only about two weeks had passed since Nadia—Alicia was making a conscious effort to stop calling her _Mom_; she didn't deserve it—kicked her out of the house. Her parents wouldn't let her explain, acted like she didn't exist, and never once let her get any of her belongings. They turned off her phone, she had no idea if her credit cards worked anymore—she guessed not—and now she was living in Massie Block's guestroom.

It would be embarrassing if Alicia had any part of her self-esteem still intact.

On the other line, she heard the shifting of a mattress, the crinkle of sheets. "The fifteenth."

"That's, like, a week after we go back to school."

"I'm allowed to take a few days off, Leesh," Derrick Harrington reminded her. He sounded different, she thought, voice deeper, less stressed, but there was still that inevitable hint of strain at the end of each of his sentences.

Alicia sighed. "You've been in France forever."

"Three weeks, technically, but—"

"I want you to come back," she admitted softly. "I don't want to go to school alone."

"Leesh…" He was gentler now. "You're not alone at all. Massie is there, _Chris_ is there…"

"No." She fingered her hair out of its braid, letting it fall in waves over her shoulder. "Chris is still suspended, remember? And Massie can't possibly keep a whole school of boys from teasing me."

"What about Kemp? Cam? Josh? They won't let anything happen to you."

"I'm not going to ask them to look out for me constantly."

"But you'll ask me?"

She bit down on her lower lip, gnawing the flesh. "I'm not _asking_—you make me feel safe, s'all."

"I'll be home before you know it" was what Derrick responded with, but that didn't make Alicia feel any better.

Briarwood Academy didn't open for another week, and while everyone else was making the most of the remainder of their vacation, Alicia was sitting around, antsy as all hell. Life had been awful before, being one of the four—now that Claire Lyons was gone—girls at school meant for boys and _only_ boys, but once she had slept with Danny Robbins, it had gotten even worse, if that were possible.

There was no doubt in her mind that everyone knew of her current predicament. Gossip flew fast in Westchester, especially when it involved the daughter of a very influential family such as hers. If Chris Plovert and Kemp Hurley getting in trouble for her wasn't enough, the knowledge of her mother kicking her out of the house would seal the deal.

And if it didn't… they'd find out when she turned into a whale.

"How are you doing?" she blurted out, not wanting to think about the downward spiral her life was taking. "France is lovely, right? I've never been, but I've heard…"

Derrick seemed to take the bait, easing into this new conversation with only slight reluctance. "It would be nicer under different circumstances, but there's not much I can complain about."

"And… everyone's okay?"

"Define 'okay'."

Alicia opened her mouth to respond, though she wasn't sure what it was she was going to say. _I'm sorry?_ That wouldn't do. Nothing would.

"I don't think we're going to be okay for a long time," said Derrick, that vicious undertone clinging to his words. He'd be angry at his father for longer than that, Alicia knew. "Sammi's distraught, Mom's… I don't even know, she's never away from Grandma for long, and Patrick—Patrick's the worst, I think." He took a deep breath, the air shakily leaving him. "Dad was his idol once, and…and I think he blames me."

"He—he _can't_," Alicia breathed, frowning. "It's not your fault."

"It doesn't matter if it's my fault or not. I hate my father, Patrick doesn't, and he probably thinks I did this just to spite him." Derrick exhaled sharply. "I was never the model son, so."

"Well, _I_ think you're great."

"That makes me feel a little better." She could hear the smile in his voice—small and genuine. "But I don't really want to talk about it anymore. What are you doing for New Year's?"

The Latina shifted on the bed, pulling the phone closer so she could stretch out. "Kemp invited me to his party, but I don't know if I'm going."

"You should go," Derrick told her. "Kemp's parties are always fun."

"I dunno. I'm not exactly in the state to go to a party." She placed her hand on her stomach, where she was _convinced_ she was getting bigger. It could be her mind playing tricks on her, but every time she looked in the mirror, there was a little bump where they wasn't one before.

"I'm not telling you to drink. Go. Socialize."

"I don't—"

"You'll see Chris," the blonde boy sing-songed and despite it all, Alicia's heart soared. "_Go_."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing too exciting." Derrick hummed. "Grandma will either take us out or make some big meal, and Patrick will go to the French bars because he can, and Sammi will get wine for the both of us and we will proceed to get extremely shitfaced by ourselves. It's what happened on Christmas."

Alicia licked her lips. "And your mom? What will she be doing?"

"Sleep, probably. I dunno. She's sad, so she doesn't do much. I'm kind of… afraid to talk to her."

"Why?"

Derrick didn't answer for some time, and Alicia lied there, staring up at the ceiling. The room was grossly bare; nothing of hers was actually there, still locked up in her house, where she could never go back. On the off chance she had somewhere to go, she would borrow Massie's clothes, use her makeup, wash her hair with her shampoo…

"I haven't talked to her—like _really_ talked to her—since I, uh, cried on her." Derrick's voice came and startled Alicia out of her reverie. "And I don't want to because what if she hates me? Like." He sniffed. "Like, she dealt with Dad acting like that for so long. What if she didn't want to kick him out? What if I overstepped some sort of boundary? I can't have her hate me, Leesh."

"Let me get this straight. You're not talking to her because you're afraid she hates you? Doesn't that seem a bit… silly? You should talk to her to make sure she doesn't."

"But she's avoiding me."

"Or _you're_ avoiding_ her_."

"I would not—"

"Derrick, coming from someone whose parents won't even give her the time of day: _Talk to her_."

There was movement from his end, like he was shuffling around, and it was then that Alicia remembered the time difference. Six hours, he had told her the first time she called, to tell him Massie had taken her in, that Chris was suspended, that she hated her life. It was almost ten in New York; it was like 4AM where he was.

"I'm _scared_." He sounded so little just then, voice muffled and slurred with sleep.

Alicia had the urge to fly to France and pet his hair, but she had no money to do so, and the best alternative was to give him advice. Her parents might want nothing to do with her, but that didn't mean Derrick's mom was going to steer clear of the person who saved her life.

"There is absolutely nothing to be scared of," she told him, willing herself to stay clear and strong. "Nothing you did that day would make Candace hate you. No one wants to be abused, but sometimes it's just easier to deal with it than ask for help. What you did was really brave, Derrick, and not only that, but it was the _right_ thing. It's going to be hard for a while, but that will not stop her from loving you. She might be giving you some distance because she thinks you need it, or maybe you're giving off some vibe, but there is no way she's avoiding you for any reason other than that. You should talk to her, tell her you're afraid she's going to hate you. You'll see you have nothing to worry about."

"Okay," Derrick said.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to my mom and you'll go to Kemp's party. Deal?"

"Yeah." Alicia sighed.

He snorted at her dejection. "Don't act like it's the end of the world. You can call me when you get home and tell me all the stupid things our friends did."

"Sure, if that's what you want," she agreed, "but I'll let you go now. You should be sleeping, sorry."

"You know I'd rather talk to you than sleep, Leesh."

"Still. Get some rest. Love you."

"Love you, too," he yawned, no longer fighting his exhaustion.

The last thing Alicia heard before she hung up the phone was his slight snore in her ear.

.

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.

A number of dresses were thrown around Massie Block's room, littering the floor and hiding her bed from view. Josh Hotz sat among the sparkles, vibrant colors, and lace, a rather pretty purple number balled up in his lap.

"I still don't understand why you just don't wear _this_ one," he remarked, lifting it up rather gingerly. "I'd wear it."

"You can borrow it if you want," came Massie's muffled voice, her entire body hidden in her closet. "I have shoes that match it, too."

Josh wrinkled his nose. "As gorgeous as this is, I think I'll have to pass. Purple makes me look washed out, y'know?"

"Try this one, then." Another article of clothing shot out at him, whacking him in the face. Despite her view on sports—she hated most of them—Massie's arm was fantastic.

Chucking it to the side without a second glance, Josh said, "I do love a good body-con, but I think I'll keep it simple."

"What color are you wearing? Do you want to match?" Massie emerged from her closet, arms full. It looked like she was holding her entire wardrobe, but Josh knew that wasn't even a quarter of it.

"Red or blue, I think," he told her, but he wasn't sure why it mattered. "Red, most likely. I think my blue shirt is in my hamper still."

Massie pursed her lips. "What kind of red? Like… light red? Or orange-red, or dark red?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of _course_ it matters!" she exclaimed. "When you decide to match, you have to match _correctly_." Josh only stared at her blankly, and she huffed. "Fine. I'm wearing black."

He frowned, her mood swings giving him a headache. Before he could ask her which black dress she decided to wear, there was a light rapping on the door, and Alicia's voice rang through: "If you're not wearing red, can I?"

She stood in the doorway, clasping her hands in front of her. She was beautiful, but sad, and Josh felt a pang in his heart. It wasn't like he and Alicia had a good history—he had liked her once, and then he didn't—but he still wouldn't have wished this on her, even when she was one of the biggest bitches in town.

He smiled at her as Massie squealed, "_You're coming?_"

"Yeah." Alicia tucked some hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I… I figured I might as well get out of the house. No use in wallowing in my own self-pity if I don't have to."

Massie clapped her hands together. "What do you want to wear? And seriously, don't just stand there—come in!"

"Red is my color," Alicia murmured, dropping to the ground besides Josh. He reached out and squeezed her hand; she left their fingers intertwined. "I'll wear anything, just as long as it doesn't make me look… pregnant."

"You don't look pregnant," Josh said.

"I feel pregnant," she mumbled dejectedly.

Massie held up two different red dresses—one was lace and the other beaded, their fits almost exactly alike, if Josh knew what he was looking at. It didn't look like either of them would fit too snugly in areas Alicia would not want them to fit.

Alicia's palm in his was starting to slick with sweat, but he didn't let go. "I don't—"

"I like the back of that one," Josh declared grandly, trying to make the situation a bit lighter. "It's, uh. Cool."

"It _is_ nice."

"Try them both on and see which one you like best," he suggested.

She looked over at him in alarm and he offered up his best grin. "Okay." She sighed, pushing herself up. "If you think that would be best."

"I do."

Alicia took both choices from their friend and shuffled into the bathroom. The door clicked behind her and Massie spun around to face him. "Thanks for that."

"For what?"

She gestured towards the closed door. "She was starting to panic."

Josh lifted his shoulders into a shrug, fingers brushing against the silk—_was it silk?_—tossed carelessly on the floor next to him. "I don't know how she feels, but I do know she looks great," he offered, "and the only way for her to get out of her funk is to realize that."

A sound of agreement rose from Massie's throat as she putzed around, shoving dresses back in her closet.

The dark-haired boy was much too invested to leave it at that, so he asked, "Did you figure out what you're wearing?"

"This." Massie picked a dress up. It was like she deflated completely, her enthusiasm shot. He hadn't seen her try that one on, either. "Nothing too fancy. It's not like I have to impress anybody."

At that, Josh frowned, watching her continue to clean up her room. A huge pile of dresses, shirts, and skirts sat in the middle of her closet. They'd end up wrinkled, he knew, and Massie would not like that. "Why would you need to impress anyone?"

"I'm just saying it doesn't matter. De—" She froze, reminiscent to that of a deer in the headlights, and coughed.

It became clear then: _Derrick_.

Josh knew it all, even the things he didn't really _want_ to know—Derrick's declaration of love (could have been a bit smoother, if you asked him, but no one did), the way she hid in the bathroom until he left, how he wasn't answering her texts or calls. Massie was trying to contact him a lot more than she liked to admit.

He _also_ knew Derrick's phone worked perfectly fine, he was in France, and he was in direct contact with Alicia—via the Blocks' landline—and Cam, but he was not going to tell Massie that he was avoiding her.

"Just because Derrick's not going to be there doesn't mean you should care about how you look." It was weird for Josh to say, to care, actually, about Massie's little fashion issues.

"I don't want to look nice just to have other people look at me," she told him, now rummaging through her drawers of jewelry. "I want to look nice so he'll look at me."

_He looks at you regardless of what you wear_, Josh wanted to say, but instead "Look nice because you want to look nice" came out instead.

Massie ran a hand over her face. "The thing is I don't _care_," she muttered. "All I care about, and I don't _want_ to, is Derrick, and how he told me he loved me, and I decided to hide in the bathroom, and how he is now in some foreign country, not talking to me, and probably not in love with me anymore."

She spoke so fast Josh thought his head was going to explode. "Massie, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Excuse you?" she snapped.

He didn't take her rudeness to heart. "He loved you almost all of last year. I'm sure one vacation isn't going to change that."

"But what if he finds some cute girl with an even cuter accent who will tell him what he wants to hear because she's not scared of it?"

"Unless that cute girl with an even cuter accent is _you_, I highly doubt it."

"I wouldn't worry about him finding someone else," Alicia's voice sounded from the other side of the room. "It's not like he's in France for fun."

Massie's eyes narrowed. "He's in France?"

"_Ow, ow_," Josh supplied, giving Alicia a quick once-over. "That dress looks great on you, Leesh."

She looked down, twirling a bit. "You think?"

"A hundred percent. You gonna wear it?"

"I think you should," Massie contributed. Her voice changed as quickly as she gave the compliment, hard and fierce: "How do you know he's in France? What's he doing in France?"

Alicia seemed to ignore the change in tone. "You know what happened to his father. His grandma, his mother's mom, lives there, so she wanted to see her while she figured out what to do."

"He told you that?"

Silently, the Latina nodded.

Massie's face fell and as it did, so did Josh's heart, right into the pit of his stomach. "Why is he talking to everyone but _me_?"

"Don't take it to heart," Josh spoke quickly, "he just needs some time away from everything here."

"And me, evidently."

"Massie—"

She turned away from him, facing Alicia. "You should keep that dress; you really look great in it." She quirked her lips into the worst fake smile Josh had ever seen her produce. "Anyone want tea? I'm gonna go make some tea."

There was no time to answer before she was scurrying out of the room.

.

.

.

James Ridder's mouth was an absolute _sin_. Dylan Marvil could hardly focus as he sucked on her neck, the suction of lips against skin causing her to lose her breath. Her fingers wound their way into his dark hair, his slipping beneath her sweater to hastily unbutton her pants.

And while this sent tingles all throughout her body, it was hard to concentrate on just that when her phone was continuously vibrating on her bed.

"You gonna get that?" James murmured, voice breathy against her collarbone. He had freed her of her jeans, thumbs in the belt loops, inching them down slowly, and Dylan was about to reply in the negative when another round of vibrations interrupted her.

She groaned, reaching behind her to grab her phone. As she unlocked it and went to look at her texts, James tugged her pants off, exposing her pale skin to the slight chill.

**Kemp Hurley**: hey I know we aren't exactly on the best terms but are you doing anything on new years?  
**Kemp Hurley**: I'm having a party if you aren't. It starts at 8 and you can leave whenever. You should come

"Kemp's throwing a party tomorrow," she said.

James' hands ran up the length of her legs; Dylan stifled a sigh. "Wanna crash?"

"It's technically not crashing if I was invited."

"But _I _wasn't," he reminded her, lips brushing against her ear. "And neither were my friends."

"Well," Dylan deliberated, letting James trail a line of kisses from her earlobe to the corner of her mouth. "_I _can go, and _you_ can crash, if that's what you want."

James grinned briefly, a smile that lit up his entire face, and pressed his mouth against hers. "That is what I want, yes."

"Alright. That's what we'll do then. We're going to show up late, though. I hope you know that."

"I do know that." James took her phone from her hand and tossed it, not caring where it went. "Now, shush. I don't want to talk about Kemp Hurley."

"I don't want to talk _at all_," Dylan murmured, pulling him closer by his collar.

.

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.

"Thanks for coming over and helping me on such short notice." Kemp Hurley wiped his forehead free of sweat and flung himself next to Kristen Gregory on the couch.

"Well, you did bribe me with wine," the blonde soccer player reminded him, "and I can never say no to free wine."

Kemp laughed. "I'll keep that in mind next time I want to hang out with you."

"I don't need wine _every _time." Kristen put her empty glass on the floor by her feet and looked around. She and Kemp had basically redecorated both his living room and basement, the two biggest rooms in the house, for the party he was throwing for New Year's Eve.

All the furniture had been pushed against the walls, everything valuable was hidden away in Kemp's room, which would be locked for the duration of the night, and the fridge in the basement had been emptied of all food and drinks to hold the alcohol and chasers.

Kemp figured the party would start in the living room and then either into the basement or his backyard—both were big enough if that were to happen. And his mom was really into gardening or something like that, so his yard was immaculate. There were even string lights around trees and twinkling above the grass.

"How did you get all the drinks?" she asked, remembering how his bedroom floor was littered with all sorts of refreshments.

"I got Harris to buy them for me," Kemp explained, "which means he's coming, and that means one thing: College girls."

"You are so gross." Kristen chortled. "You're fifteen."

"I'll be sixteen in three months," he retorted, taking a huge gulp from his own glass. "And some of the girls have really low self-esteem." He grinned at her, his cheeks pink. "One of them told me they didn't feel important unless they hooked up with at least one guy every time they went out. How _great_ is that?"

Kristen shoved him and he shot her a look, clearly peeved that he almost spilled his drink. "That isn't great at all, Kemp. That's awful."

"I mean, it's great for _me_, because they don't care who they hook up with. It just matters that they hook up with _someone_."

"I think I hate you." Kristen stole the glass from his hand and took a meaningful sip.

"If you hated me, you wouldn't be here," he said, leaning back into the couch. His eyes were unfocused as he looked at her.

She smirked, tapping the glass with her pointer finger. "Free wine."

"I could easily take that away from you."

"But you won't."

Kemp sighed, rolling his eyes. "At this rate, you'll be drunker than me," he commented, "and I don't think I'll like that very much."

Kristen shrugged and drained the rest of the wine. "Sucks to be you, I guess."

"Nah. There's more wine in the kitchen if I really want it." He stretched his legs out, his feet making her lap their own. "But I don't. At least not right now. What I want, though, is to talk to you."

"About what?" she asked.

"Things."

"Things?"

"Yes. _Things._" Kemp cleared his throat, eyes half-closed. "Are you still interested in baby Lyons?"

She froze—people _knew _about that?—and started to pluck the non-existent hairs off her shirt. "What are you talking about?" She could feel her cheeks start to heat up.

"You told me all about it when Harris threw that party," he supplied, and something inside of Kristen deflated. "I assumed you remembered."

The blonde sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "I remember next to nothing. I heard I took body shots off a senior lacrosse player though."

"Sick…but you didn't answer the question."

Kristen really wished she had something to drink—more wine, water, _anything_—and fidgeted. "I dunno," she said after a while. "I haven't talked to him since he called me after I left him some stupid voicemail of me apologizing for something. Like, I literally don't remember that night at all, and I'm so embarrassed, and I'm avoiding him, because he's, like, twelve, and I like him."

"Last time I checked he was fourteen," Kemp offered.

She shot him a look. "Still."

"There's nothing wrong with liking someone a year younger than you."

"There's something wrong when that person is the little brother of someone you used to be friends with."

Kemp rolled his eyes. "No, it's not."

"_Yes, it is_—"

"I don't understand why this is so complicated," he interrupted. "If you like someone, go for it. Why is that so difficult?"

"_Because_," Kristen answered irritably, but she had nothing else to say on the matter.

The boy next to her grinned. "See what I mean? Kristen, ask him out."

She nibbled on her lower lip. "What if he's not actually interested?"

Kemp lifted his head, looking at her as seriously as a boy drunk off wine could. "He already kissed you, Kristen. Of course he's interested."

"You think?"

"I'm a guy. I know these things."

Kristen cocked her head to the side, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. "Can you tell me something then? Why are boys so hard to figure out?"

"We're not. Girls are. You can't expect us to let you play with our heads without us dishing it back, can you?"


	2. Chapter 2

There were so many reviews, oh my goodness! I wanted to respond to each of them, but I'm incredibly busy and incredibly lazy, so I'll just thank you from the bottom of my heart right here. Really. I wasn't expecting that many. Or any at all, if I'm being honest. Thank you for all the compliments, and I hope I can get everything you want to happen in this story. With reason, of course. And when you all tell me how much you like the way I write Massington, that makes me all warm and fuzzy because I love them.

Anyway, this chapter is all about Massie/Josh and Cam, and I've come to find out that I have a thing for Cam being sort of a jerk, but not really a jerk. I don't know. It fits. I hope this isn't too rushed or anything, but whatever.

And if you have the time, vote in my poll for the story I should post next. If it ever gets posted. I'm having a hard time with this website. Lemme know if it doesn't!

* * *

It was hardly ten-thirty and Kemp's house was already a teenage wasteland. Every room reeked of sweat and alcohol. There was glitter _everywhere_, and Cam Fisher already passed three different girls vomiting into the nearest sink, bowl, and- get this- potted plant. With a scowl, he pushed through the masses, hoping to get as far away from _that_ as possible, and ended up with someone's mixed drink all over his front. Now his cologne was more or less drowned out by the strong scent of Jack and Coke.

His knuckles tightened around the neck of his bottle as he lifted it to his lips, taking a large gulp. The bitter liquid warmed his throat and sent a slew of goosebumps down his spine. He pretended his face didn't contort the way it did and continued on. His shirt clung to his chest uncomfortably.

The party was wild, and it would only get worse when midnight actually came, but Cam was aware of how much it actually sucked without Derrick there. He had no partner for any games, no one to go along with taking "just one more shot, it'll fine" with him, and no one to complain to when things got stupid.

Basically, Cam was acting like a girl because his best friend wasn't there.

It would be fun if his friends hadn't paired off with each other like they usually did, leaving him alone. Despite being seven shots in, Plovert stopped drinking as soon as he saw that Alicia had decided to come after all, and the two of them were wrapped up in only each other. There was a lot of whispering in ears and hand holding and face touches and Cam was confused as to why the two of them didn't kiss. They hadn't, not yet, at least. That's what Plovert told him.

Massie naturally stayed close to Josh's side, in some sort of perpetual state of sorrow. That meant she would drink anything and everything in her line of sight and since Josh was wrapped around her finger, he would do the same. The two of them would be incoherently drunk and stupid before the night was over.

Kemp and Kristen teamed up for beer pong. By the way everyone was cheering for them, they were dominating. He wasn't going to interfere with that.

When he saw Dylan walk into the house, he hated to say his heart stopped, but then he noticed the group she was with, and he was pissed off again. It didn't help that while leaving the basement he noticed her and James Ridder in a very compromising situation that made him grit his teeth and stomp up the stairs.

He was alone now, probably would be for the rest of the night, and that made him want to go home. Cam didn't like doing things by himself. It didn't mean he _couldn't_, but it was nice having someone around. What was going to happen, even before midnight, was he would call Derrick, ignoring the six hour gap in time, and sit outside, telling him how stupid everything was. It was like he was dating the kid. Being around someone all the time for so long and then doing things they used to do together alone- it was unnerving.

He was so lost in his head he didn't notice the person in front of him until he bumped into her and even more liquid sloshed onto him. He frowned, glaring down at the large spot. "Shit."

"Sorry. _Sorry!_" Olivia Ryan fluttered about him, eyes wide, hands reaching out to touch him, but pulling back at the last minute. "I- there was absolutely _no time_-"

Cam's gaze on her startled her into silence and he looked at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and the apologetic tug of her lips. "Not an issue at all, Liv," he said smoothly. "My shirt had gone to shit before you even arrived."

"I noticed," she said, calming down slightly. The crazed look was fading fast. "You should probably change that before it gets worse."

"This is all I got." He shrugged. "The shirt under it is probably just as soaked."

"I'm really sorry," she slurred; out of desperation or drunkenness, he didn't know.

"No worries, Olivia. Really." Cam placed his hand on her shoulder, flashed his best smile. She all but shrunk beneath him; he ignored it. "What are you doing by yourself anyway?"

The blonde brushed the hair out of her face, the lights making the fair shade an assortment of vibrant colors. "I lost Strawberry and Kori a little while ago. Or it could've been longer- I'm having an issue with time passing."

"Well, then, Olivia Ryan." Cam tossed his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close to his side. "It seems to be your lucky day."

"Nothing has happened to deem it 'lucky,'" Olivia commented, though despite her aloof tone, she remained where she was, "but do continue."

He made a face at her. "Lucky day," he repeated, "because my friends ditched me and I seem to be having the same problem as you. We might as well stick together. For safety."

Olivia cackled, promptly slapping a hand over her mouth. "Safety?"

"Yes. _Safety_. You never know what could happen to a person like us, with this time passing dilemma of ours."

"Make me another drink and I'll consider it."

"So you can spill it all over me again? No, thank you."

She whacked him in the shoulder. "I apologized for that! And it wasn't even my fault. _You_ walked into _me_."

"Excuses, excuses," Cam muttered, turning on his heel back into the throngs of people. "What do you want?"

"Rum and Coke would be lovely." Olivia followed him, scurrying after his long-legged strides. He let his arm drop, but was quick to grab her wrist so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "Coconut rum, preferably, but I can deal with whatever it is you find."

"Tequila it is then!"

.

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.

"You take one more shot and I think I'm going to pass out," Josh said. Or… at least that's what Massie thought he said. His words were so jumbled and the music was so loud- he might've said something completely different.

"No one told you to keep up with me, Joshie," the brunette retorted, assuming she heard him correctly. She pinched the small glass with sticky fingers and tossed it back. That made… ten. Or eleven. She wasn't counting.

"Yes." Josh leaned his head on her shoulder. "But no one told you to drink your feelings."

She huffed, reaching for the vodka in front of them. There was less than a quarter of it left, which meant she and Josh had more than she thought they did. _Oops_.

The boy next to her shot his arm out, wrapping his fingers around her hand. She let go of the bottle and shot him a dirty look.

"No more," he ordered. "Seriously. No more. I will throw up."

Massie pursed her lips. "But-"

Josh breathed in deeply through his mouth, tugging her back against the couch. "I got confused about three shots ago, but I'm pretty sure we're at a dozen right now, and you know what they say."

"When in doubt, take another shot?"

"No." He shot her a look. If he were a bit more sober, he'd probably find some way to slap her. Instead, he nuzzled closer to her, and that was his own special, drunken way of forcing her to leave the alcohol on the table. "Don't take twelve shots in an hour."

"No one has ever said that to me," she stated, falling back into the cushions.

"I just did, and it's the truth, so _sit_." And then he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Also, please don't move. All of everything is spinning."

Massie sighed, but stayed completely still, observing the party around her. She had never been in Kemp's house before, but it was rather lovely, even with the chaos going on around her. There were people everywhere- next to each other, on top of each other, alone- and she thought she saw Harris talking to some girl that was definitely _not_ Sammi, and that girl was getting pretty handsy.

She wondered for a split second where the middle Harrington was and why she was letting random girls tease and touch her boyfriend- _was he her boyfriend though? Were they a fling? What even were they?_- when she remembered that Sammi was in France with stupid Derrick.

(And, of course, the rest of the delightful Harringtons. Only Derrick was the stupid one.)

How he could tell everyone but her where he was? Why was he deliberately ignoring every single one of her texts and her calls? It wasn't like he didn't get any of them- she had tried to get in touch with him more times than she could count. She had apologized in every possible way, hoping for some sort of response back, even if it was something along the lines of "too late, Block" because she would've accepted that.

What she did get was ten times worse than that: The cold shoulder, it turned out. The _purposeful_ cold shoulder. Derrick was in France _and_ he was talking to all of their friends, who apparently made some sort of pact not to tell Massie.

She didn't know who she was upset with more, but it turned out that she was only upset with herself. Maybe she couldn't have stopped him from going to France, but if she hadn't been so shocked and overwhelmed, she wouldn't have responded the way she did, and if that were the case, he'd be in France and talking to her instead of being in France and ignoring her. Which was all she really wanted. She hated being ignored.

"Hey, Massie?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Can you-" She paused, feeling slightly panicked despite the amount of alcohol coursing through her veins. "I... I-uh- I... don't see why not."

Except, you know, the whole Derrick being in love with her thing (maybe, because he might find someone else in France) and her kind of, sort of being in love with him back (if she ever got around to swallowing her pride and telling him that).

His head shot up, dark eyes staring directly into hers. They were glassy and confused. "Really?"

"Yeah." She swallowed. "Sounds fine to me."

And it _was_ fine up until his face was close to hers and she could count each of his individual eyelashes. Her heart started racing erratically in her chest, making it almost painful to breathe, and she all but mouthed, "Just don't throw up on me, please."

Josh only smiled at her, dimples showing, and that changed her racing heart into one that skipped two beats in a row. She wasn't sure _why_- she had never looked at Josh any certain way, only with friendship, so she shouldn't be freaking out over something as simple as a _kiss_-

And his lips pressed hesitantly against hers.

They were different from the other ones she kissed. Cam's had been soft and gentle, Derrick's always had the upper hand whether or not he was the one in control or not, and Josh's… his were cautious. So, _so_ cautious.

He pulled back only millimeters, flicking his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. She bit her tongue in an effort to keep a gasp from escaping, but it was all futile, because as soon as she did so, he leaned in and _really_ kissed her.

His palms cupped her face, callused against her skin, and her breath hitched, lips parting. His tongue was in her mouth now and she really didn't know what to do- she had never once thought about kissing Josh. This felt like how kissing an actual brother would be like… you know, if she actually had one of those.

Somehow, regardless of her inner turmoil, the kiss continued, and her fingers had weaved themselves into his hair. Josh smelled like straight vodka and his usual musky scent; it made her a little nauseous, if she were being honest.

Then it was over and they were staring at each other, wide-eyed and alarmed, chests rising and falling rapidly. Massie licked her lips and cringed at the taste of alcohol that made its home there.

Josh's cheeks were as red as a tomato. "Yeah," he whispered, "definitely gay."

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**plovert [11:12]**: josh and massie just made out. fyi.  
**kristen [11:14]**: what  
**kristen [11:15]**: derrick?  
**kemp [11:17]**: I'm pretty sure josh is gay don't worry about it  
**cam [11:20]**: WHAT  
**plovert [11:22]**: hello this is alicia please explain  
**kemp [11:31]**: please disregard anything I might have said. I am drunk.

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"Gay?" Massie questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"Y-Y…yeah," Josh stammered, sounding as sober as Alicia probably was. "I. I'm an asshole, I know that, since I never told you anything while you told me everything…" He kept his gaze trained on the floor, even when his best friend leaned forward to put her hand on his shoulder. It was warm.

"I told you things about my family life and you basically figured out that I was still into Derrick," she said, frustrated that it took her so long to get the words out. Even worse, she could hear the way her voice was slurring and she couldn't fix it, no matter how slow she spoke. "Don't think you're an asshole, because I don't think you're an asshole. Not at all."

Josh caught his bottom lip between his teeth. "You don't?"

Massie brushed his bangs out of his face, hoping he would look up at her. He didn't. "In fact," she continued, "I should've noticed there was something different about you, but I was too wrapped up in my own stupid problems."

"They are _not _stupid," replied Josh fiercely, meeting her gaze. He was still glassy-eyed and slightly out of focus. "I wasn't making a big deal out of it anyway- I didn't _want_ people to know."

"How did it happen?" she asked. "That is, if you want to tell me."

"Of course I do." He took her hands and swallowed. "I'm just… this doesn't change how you feel about me?"

She shook her head. "Why would it?"

Relief flooded Josh's face. His fingers tightened around Massie's and when he looked at her again, with these big doe eyes, he seemed so fragile, so small. She wanted to dropkick herself for never noticing this. She had never realized how conceited she was until this exact moment.

"I never really thought I was," Josh began, clearing his throat. "Never thought twice that I was spending more time looking at boys than I was looking at girls. To be honest, I never saw anything wrong with it. It was just looking. Not even when I wasn't attracted to Alicia at all did I question myself, even though everyone I knew wanted to get in her pants. I didn't even like Claire. I kissed her to see what would happen and then I fucked up her and Cam, but that doesn't really matter that much. At least not in this part of the story."

Massie wrinkled her nose. "So… you never liked Claire?"

"No. I liked her as a person until she pushed me in a fountain, but romantically? No. Sexually? Not a chance." He waited until Massie seemed to comprehend before continuing. "It wasn't until that party at the beginning of the year that everything started to make sense."

"Why?"

"Do you know who James Ridder is?" the boy asked, and there was this venom dripping from his words that made Massie shiver. She nodded. "We have a really bad history with him just because he plays lacrosse and we play soccer and soccer happens to be the more popular, successful sport. He'll make this jab at us that we only make it anywhere because we pay off the other schools, but really the lacrosse team did some major threatening to make it to the playoffs last spring and-"

Massie giggled, pressing her hand to his mouth. "I don't care about the lacrosse team, Josh."

"Oh," he said into her palm. "I ramble when I'm nervous. Also when I'm drunk."

"I noticed."

Josh flushed, the pink already in his cheeks darkening. "Anyway… where was I? Um- James, right. They're always trying to 'drop us down a peg' or whatever the hell they say, but it never works- he's, like, pissed the soccer team gets special treatment from teachers, but that's not_ my_ fault, is it? No. I'm just the weakest link in his eyes, so he thinks he can get to me. I don't even know why he's so obsessed with knocking us down-"

"Power," Massie interrupted. "He wants your power."

"I have no power. I don't see why he wants to knock me down, but to his their own, I guess."

"You do," she argued, squeezing his hand. "You just said it. You get special treatment from teachers and he doesn't. He wants to be in your position- he wants all the recognition, the girls, the way you can command an entire grade. Everyone does."

Josh snorted. "That's stupid. I'd personally go for Derrick because he's the- the you, really."

"Knock 'em down one by one, starting with the 'smallest,'" Massie told him with an air-quote and an eye roll. "That's his plan. That would've been my plan if anyone tried to challenge me last year, but." She shrugged. "Don't really care anymore."

"I like this year's you better than last year's, but I'm not even done telling you the story. He's going after me, right, and I don't even know why. Maybe he could tell I was confused, maybe not. All I know is that night he made Owen Crawford kiss me- he's our Vice President, in case you forgot- and ever since then, I've been confused as all hell. Don't ask me why Owen kissed me either, that's a mystery I've been unable to solve."

"So, James Ridder helped you figure out you were gay?"

"Shh, I'm not done," Josh reprimanded. "And don't say it like that. It makes it sound like Ridder was helping me. He was not. Anyway, I was freaking out. I wanted to tell my mom, but every time I tried, my father was there and he's not exactly… he lives in the, like, forties, I think. He is against every change that has come with the progression of time and… when I did tell my mom, he overheard, freaked, and I thought I was done for. But my mom kicked him out."

Massie was silent, her mind running a mile a minute. It hurt her head to do all this thinking at the present time, what with those twelve shots taking control of her body. The edges of her eyes were starting to get blurry, and there were two Joshes in front of her.

"And that," Josh ended grandly, "is the story of how I figured out I was gay. Or sort of. I really figured it out about ten minutes ago when I kissed you. There was literally nothing there."

This was a lot for her to take in, too much information to be processed in such a little time. Even thought she didn't understand it all- in little chunks, of course- all she could feel in the pit of her stomach was guilt.

Everything he told her, all the big events that took place, she could remember just where she was and what she was thinking about. All the things she thought had been important back then clearly were not. How could she have been so blind? How could she have missed all of this?

"Does anyone else know?" she inquired. "Besides your family and James… sorta."

"Kemp. Derrick. Now you."

"Are you against the rest of our friends knowing?"

Thankfully Josh did not look as petrified as she thought he would. "You, Kemp, and Derrick haven't done anything to make me feel any different, so no," he answered. "It's just a long story I don't want to tell multiple times. In fact, telling you right now made me extremely nauseous."

"I don't think that's just the story doing that to you." Massie grinned at him sheepishly. "We did take a shit ton of shots in an hour while we were sitting. Sorry about that."

"It made you feel better at the time, so… I don't really care. But I do, because this room is spinning and I'm having frightening visions of puking right here in the living room. Would it be rude of me to ask Plovert to get me water?"

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.

It was much quieter outside despite the chill in the air. Cam hardly felt it, his body warming up for other reasons entirely. The calm was exactly what he needed; he sighed, landing rather ungracefully on a lawn chair on the porch. Olivia stood around him, her lip caught between her teeth, before she, too, took a seat.

Cam couldn't help the smirk playing at his lips. She was so pure in her actions- reluctant, nervous, shy- and while that was something one could not normally find in a girl living in Westchester, Olivia's overall manner was the complete opposite. She stood with an air to her he couldn't describe and her eyes blazed with a hidden fire. It was all very entrancing.

That was the alcohol talking, of course.

He leaned back, stretching his whole body out, and let out a relieved sigh. The fresh air was doing him wonders. He didn't feel as angry as he had before, if angry was even the word for it. It was like he was floating on a cloud; he could fall asleep here if he wanted- the sounds of the party were muffled by the bliss wrapping around him- but it was rather hard with Olivia staring at him.

Opening one eye- the blue one- Cam murmured, "_Yes?_"

"Uh- I-" Olivia licked her lips and he found his gaze following the movement of her tongue. "I just wanted to know why you're hanging out with me."

"Friends do this thing where they spend time with each other."

"I… wasn't aware we were friends, Cam."

He frowned. "We've always been friends."

"Have we?" she asked. "Because it seems to me that we're only talking right now because it's convenient for you."

_Convenient for me?_ Frustration made Cam grit his teeth together. "I'm talking to you because I want to talk to you, Olivia."

"We've never talked before," she reminded him. "Maybe we said hello in passing, but you've never expressed any interest in my companionship whatsoever."

He caught her hard gaze as it bore into him and pursed his lips. "I don't know what you're trying to imply here, but let me tell you that my being out here with you right now is not because it's convenient."

"You told me your friends ditched you."

"And you told me you lost both Kori and Strawberry, did you not?" Cam shot back. "That sounds pretty similar to me. Very _convenient_."

"I was doing perfectly fine on my own until you came along," she snapped, and Cam really wished he could go back in time to the few moments of relaxation he had before Olivia started this fight with him. She was insane- er, more insane than his girlfriends, at least. "You and your stupid stained shirt and 'safety in numbers' bullshit."

Cam refrained taking deep, calculated breaths in front of her, instead pressing his thumb and forefinger together so hard the skin on both turned white. "Would you like to know why I wanted to be around you?" he demanded.

The smooth calm of his voice startled Olivia into silence. It was odd how he worked in arguments such as this. One second he could feel himself overheating and getting mad, the next he was cool and collected. It really threw people for a loop. Sometimes even himself.

"That _is_ why I asked you in the first place," the blonde muttered, furrowing her eyebrows together.

She almost looked like Claire in the darkness with the stubborn set of her shoulders and her flaxen hair. She even possessed the ability to irritate him to no end. But as soon as she turned her head, the resemblance was thankfully gone.

"My friends always pair up together, which is really fine and dandy, but Derrick's in France and Massie's probably puking with Josh and _Dylan's_ with James _fucking_ Ridder-"

"Oh," Olivia piped in quickly. "_Oh_."

"Why are you doing that? Why are you oh-ing me?"

She smiled, and it was very annoying. "Because you're this cranky asshole because of a _girl_!"

"Um." Cam sucked in as much air as possible, feeling woozy. _Not good, not good- abort, abort abort…_ "That's the farthest from the truth."

"So you're not pissed Dylan Marvil's fooling around with James… Ridder, was it? I mean, Massie throwing up with Josh is something to be angry about, too; how _dare_ they not invite you to be part of the festivities!"

"_Olivia_," Cam all but growled. "I am going to throw you into that snow mound."

Her smile turned into a full grin, which was starting to look more and more feral by the second- or that was Cam's imagination. He had no idea. "You can't lie to me," she told- no, _taunted_- him. "I can always figure things out. You're using me as a distraction because you can't use your friends."

"If I were using you as a distraction, you would know."

"I _do_ know." Her voice was the verbal equivalent of sunshine. "I'm a lot more insightful than you think."

He shot her the dirtiest look he could muster. Cam Fisher was not someone so easy to figure out; he was an _enigma_, for fuck's sake. He couldn't have Olivia Ryan, the not-so airheaded blonde, seeing right through his careful ruse.

The scathing glare did nothing to deter her. In fact, she looked almost pleased at his reaction. "You're upset a girl doesn't like you, yes? Has that never happened before?"

Cam remained stubbornly silent, but the answer was no. That wasn't something that occurred often. And by often, he meant never. All the girls he expressed interest in expressed it right back.

"It's alright to be annoyed. I gather you and this James Ridder are not pals either?" Olivia's question was obviously rhetorical, or it wasn't and Cam just didn't answer. "You'll live, Cam."

_But I thought she liked me too,_ he thought bitterly. He hoped his face didn't give him away, that he was actually genuinely peeved that she picked James Ridder over him, and he rolled his eyes in an attempt to keep up his act.

Seriously, though- after all this time, she didn't like him? Not even a _little_? He had pulled her right out of her rut! Just to throw her into the arms of some cocky lacrosse player, it seemed, and that was maddening. So fucking frustrating.

"Cam," Olivia began. It looked to him as if she were about to lecture him and he wasn't about to have that. No way.

"Keep making these stupid assumptions about me and I will punch you in the face, girl or not," he warned. He stretched out again, letting his eyes fall shut. "Be quiet and enjoy my company or I swear to god, Olivia."

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.

"You have to swallow. Don't let it just sit in your mouth."

With puffed out cheeks, Josh blinked multiple times apathetically, and then he spit the water back into the cup.

"_Josh_!" Alicia exclaimed, frowning. "Drink it."

"I don't want to swallow anything," he told her, a drunken, steadfast mess.

"You asked for this water," she said slowly, staring at him as if he had three heads.

"I did," he agreed, "but I remember asking Plovert for it."

Alicia crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled something about inappreciative teenage boys.

Chris plopped down next to Josh on the couch. "Will you drink it if I give it to you?"

"Nope."

The Latina on his other side threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "You've got to be kidding me."

"They all do this," Chris explained, reaching up to wipe the sweat from Josh's brow. "Eventually they give in. They just like to be stubborn."

"I am never babysitting again."

"I'm doing most of the work," Chris pointed out.

Alicia scowled at him, turning to Massie, who was diligently taking small sips of the water she had been handed ten minutes earlier. "Do you need anything else?" she asked. "Bread? More water? A bag to vomit in?"

The brunette shook her head. "I'm okay. I might throw myself in snow later."

"I don't think that's such a great idea," Alicia advised. "That dress doesn't look like it would be able to handle it."

"I'm hoping it'll make me feel less like I'm on fire."

"Well, who told you to take twelve shots so quickly?" her friend questioned. "Or _at all_?"

Massie wasn't intoxicated enough to keep from glaring at her, but it wasn't as terrifying as it could have been. Her face had a nice sheen of sweat clinging to it, the body's attempt to regulate itself and not throw up, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. "Me" was what she said around another mouthful of water.

"I recommend not listening to yourself next time."

"Oh, be _quiet_," Massie snapped, though it came out as more of "O, be 'iet" and therefore wasn't as blistering a comeback as she thought. "We're all allowed to be stupid once. It just so happens I was stupid when half of you are sober and now I'm never going to hear the end of it."

Alicia snorted at the melodramatics. Her lips started to form the beginning of "calm down" when Chris' phone vibrated in her lap. She dropped her head, attention on the message, and slid her finger along the touch screen to unlock it.

It was a simple message- _Happy New Year!_- with about ten party streamer emojis at the end of it. Somehow the year had changed and she missed it completely, and yet a boy in France knew exactly when it would strike midnight in New York.

"Derrick says Happy New Year," she yelled over Josh's head to Chris. Josh's phone was blinking with a new message, too, on the floor.

Chris' phone vibrated again, this time from a response from Kristen, a completely incoherent jumble of letters. Kemp answered, too, and then Cam returned the sentiment, and then-

-and then Massie promptly burst into tears.

"Shouldn't have said that out loud," Josh muttered, his dark eyes narrowing in Alicia's direction. Chris shoved the brim of the cup into his mouth, hissing something into his ear that somehow got Josh to swallow down some of the water.

Slightly startled, Alicia's finger slipped on the screen, expanding the details of the message. It took her about two seconds to realize just why Massie was crying (which made her feel extremely weird, if she were being honest; Massie _never_ cried in public).

The text had been sent to Kemp, Josh, Cam, and Kristen.

He hadn't sent it to Massie.


	3. Chapter 3

Josh spit the water in his mouth on to Chris' hand, eliciting a rather lovely string of curses to escape the boy's lips. He ignored him, though, even when Chris tried to get him to drink more, setting his dark eyes on Massie.

"Don't worry about it." His words were an incoherent mess, but the sincerity behind whatever they were was palpable enough. "Derrick's literally an idiot. He's stupid, he's-"

The cup slipped right out of her hand as she shook her head, hitting the carpet with a gentle thud. A dark stain started to spread around it. "_I'm_ the stupid one." She sniffed, pushing herself off the couch.

"Where are you going?" Alicia asked in alarm, shooting up. "Stay here."

Massie snorted, knuckles turning white with the amount of pressure she pressed into the arm of the sofa, trying to keep her balance. "And let everyone see me cry? No thanks. I'm going outside."

"It's twenty degrees!" Chris exclaimed.

"_I can't feel my face_," Massie snapped. He reeled back as if he had been shot, obviously not expecting her to be as nasty as she was with tears running down her cheeks. Alicia knew she would act like this. To be seen in public crying was one thing, but to be able to boss people around while she sobbed was exactly what Massie would do. It gave her the upper hand. "I'll be fine."

Furiously, Josh was gulping down water like it was life support, Chris' hands gripping both the bottom of the cup and the back of his neck. Alicia took one look at them and shot after Massie.

"You can't go outside, Alicia!"

"Yes, I can and I will," she shot back. "I'm not going to let her sit in the freezing cold and cry over a stupid boy _alone_!"

"You'll catch a cold," shouted Chris, but he remained in his spot. His first and only task was to take care of Josh.

The Latina shrugged in disinterest. Chris yelled something back at her, but she didn't hear it, already shoving various teenagers out of her way, gaze set on Massie's retreating back.

It wasn't that far from the living room to the front door, but Alicia had lost her friend before she could catch up. Standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck, she tried to see where she went, but her height wasn't enough to see over all those heads. Instead, she got shoved rather harshly backwards.

Whipping her head to sneer at the culprit, she felt her blood run cold. _Danny_.

He smiled at her, an animalistic grin that lit up all the wrong parts of his face. He looked like he was going to eat her. "Heard some interesting news about you."

_Do not let him get to you, do not let him get to you_…

Alicia took a deep breath, squared her chin, and stared right at him. It was unfortunate such an awful boy had such stunning eyes. "Did you now?" she returned coolly. She felt her neck start to heat up and hoped he didn't notice.

"Yes."

"And are you going to tell me what that is? I have better things to do with my time than talk to you."

Danny grinned, something akin to appreciation flashed across his face. "I missed this side of you, Leesh." The sound of her nickname made her skin crawl; she turned away from him in order to hide her obvious discomfort. "Cheeky. I love it."

"I don't know why I'm standing here," she forced herself to hiss, hands balling into fists to keep them from shaking. The only way she could stop being scared of him was to treat him the way he deserved to be treated. "Goodbye."

"You don't want to discuss names for the baby, then?"

Alicia spun on her heel, listening to him snicker as if her situation were the funniest thing there was in the world, but she refused to let it get to her. Danny Robbins was the devil's spawn, the worst person she knew- and she knew a lot of awful people, herself included- and she was _not_ going to let some pigheaded boy get the better of her again. Besides, she had a friend to console. It was the first time in forever she was the one doing the soothing, not receiving it, and she wasn't going to fuck it up because Danny knew how to get under her skin. Not today.

When she finally stepped outside, the cold wasn't the first thing she registered. Goosebumps did erupt all over her, but her gaze searched Kemp's front yard, searching for the familiar black dress Massie was wearing.

She found her on the curb, Kristen sitting cross-legged in front of her. The closer she got, the more she heard Massie's sniffling and the words her other friend was speaking to her. Something about Derrick being an idiot, the same message Josh was trying to get across, but she didn't catch all of it.

"Chris told me you'd already be out here," Kristen said in way of greeting.

Alicia crossed her legs as she placed herself next to Massie. "I got stuck in the crowd," she replied. She'd mention Danny later if it came up. He wasn't important. "How's it going?"

"I don't know why I thought he'd still like me after this," Massie mumbled. "I don't know why I couldn't just _tell him_."

Kristen leaned forward and intertwined her fingers with Massie's. The latter refused to make eye contact, hiding her face in her shoulder. She tried to mask her sadness but to no avail; Alicia watched her entire body rack with suppressed sobs.

"You had every right to act the way you did; do _not_ beat yourself up over it. You don't have to explain yourself to anyone, even him."

"But…"

"No buts," Kristen argued, voice firm. "He's just a stupid boy who got his feelings rebuffed and he's being an asshole about it."

"I didn't rebuff his feelings though!" Massie coughed, shivering. "I just couldn't tell him! Not after everything. He broke my heart, changed his mind, and thinks telling me he was in love with me this entire time will fix everything. And do you want to know the worst part? _Do you_?" She lifted her head to look at both of them, her face blotchy, mascara racing down her cheeks. "It's working. It's like I don't even care what he's doing. I just _want_ him."

"Mass," Alicia began, "it's okay to still feel that way about him. You're not immune to things like that."

"Yeah, okay, but I'm out here crying over a stupid text that means absolutely nothing to anyone but me." The brunette hiccupped, running her fingers beneath her eyes. "It's all so stupid. I'm so stupid."

It was weird, Alicia realized, watching her best friend break down like that. Massie wasn't the type of girl to let anyone play with her feelings like that, to let anyone have such control over her. If they did, she didn't show it, and she sure as hell didn't cry in public. Or, really, at all.

An uncomfortable shiver ran down her spine, but she ignored it, tucking hair behind Massie's ear after it got stuck to her face. Everyone broke down at one point and it didn't matter what kind of person Massie was before this. It had been an awful year for everyone.

"Derrick's never been very intelligent," the Latina offered feebly.

It wasn't one of her best reassuring comments, but it was difficult to say anything negative about Derrick. Massie was her ultimate best friend, been that way for as long as she could remember, but Derrick Harrington had walked right into her life this September and had placed himself right next to Massie in her heart.

"Neither am I!" she snapped. "I don't want to feel this way, but I do. You'd think I'd have learned by now." Massie's hands came to her face, fingers all but clawing at her skin in some attempt to stop her crying. The tears continued to fall despite her best efforts, and Alicia wondered just how much was pent up inside of her in the first place. "I wish he would just _go away_."

"No you don't," Kristen said, voice soft and soothing. "You'd feel a lot worse if he just disappeared."

Massie shook her head hard, hair flying. When it finally stopped moving, she looked more nauseous than she did before. "You have no idea how I'd feel then, and you have no idea how I feel now." Her voice came out in a whimper and Alicia thought maybe- just maybe- she knew exactly what was going through Massie's head.

"If he were gone," she continued, eyes trained on her shoes, "then I would know he wasn't talking to me because he couldn't. But he's not. He's coming back here and he won't be talking to me because I can't tell him I'm in love with him. I couldn't even tell _myself_- this is the first time I've said it out loud."

A silence fell over the trio just as Jason Derulo's "Talk Dirty" blasted through Kemp's house. A rather deafening chorus of squeals followed the song, but never did Kristen, Massie, or Alicia flinch.

Alicia shared a look with Kristen and saw her own discouragement reflected in her eyes. She had no idea what to say, how to act. How did you reassure someone as conflicted and upset as Massie? How did you tell her everything was going to be okay when you weren't even really sure yourself?

A lot of things had changed the second Derrick got on that plane to France. Alicia knew this. She caught the change in his tone, how he sounded harder than usual. Sometimes he acted like he did when she called him yesterday- like the Derrick everyone knew him to be- but other times, _most times_, he was standoffish. He was clipped, short. Different.

It would be easy to tell Massie France wouldn't alter his feelings about her; really, it wouldn't. Alicia suspected he was still as head over heels for her as he was before, but it wouldn't be his main concern. Not anymore.

"See?" Massie's voice broke through Alicia's thought process. Her tears had stopped, but her face was red and covered in makeup. "You guys have nothing to say. There's absolutely no point in trying. I blew it. He's not going to wait around for me. I've got to get past it. Not point in crying over spilt milk. I'm done."

"_Done_?" Kristen blurted.

"Done with this conversation and done with Derrick," Massie spoke firmly, standing up. "I'm going to go find Josh, hope he hasn't thrown up, and drink until I black out."

"I don't think-" Alicia tried to argue- she didn't need any more alcohol, really- but Massie was already halfway to Kemp's front door.

"She really shouldn't drink anymore," she said, although no one was really there to listen.

"You can't stop a person who's given up completely," Kristen murmured before she, too, made her way back inside.

.

.

.

**hoshjotz**  
I wan stop tge vomit

**leeshriv**  
the new year literally just started and I hate it

**cplov  
**"IM A TEN YOURE A TWO" _hoshjotz_ yells at some poor innocent girl because she asked if he was okay

**thehurley  
**yo whoever broke that lamp just now I know exactly what you look like and u best believe I will be making u get me a replacement

.

.

.

"You are not going to throw up tonight," Dylan told her reflection, running the small brush she kept in her bag through her hair.

She had already consumed enough beverages to keep her mood up, but her issue was that she always thought she needed to drink more. If she couldn't feel how drunk she was in the ten minutes after she drank, she continued to down shots or mixed drinks until she was stumbling or her head was foggy. That wasn't exactly the best thing to do, but that was her mindset. That's how she always ended up wasted beyond belief or puking in a bush, like that other party.

This time, though, she was determined to keep the contents of her stomach where they were supposed to be. It was different now; she was with a new group of people and she wasn't going to embarrass herself like she used to. James wouldn't like her anymore if he knew she was a sloppy mess, and he was the first boy to like her in – well, a really long time.

The redhead took a deep breath, glad that her head wasn't spinning, and ran her fingertips beneath her lashes, where some of her makeup was gathering.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door rather aggressively as she was reapplying her mascara. "OTHER PEOPLE NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM," they shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING IN THERE?"

Dylan rolled her eyes, but cleared out regardless, not in the mood to argue with another drunken teenager. She almost had it out with one of Harris' college friends because of something completely stupid she couldn't even remember.

The girl – she was clearly from OCD in her tall heels and short skirt – glared at her before slamming the door behind her. Dylan hoped she tripped over her own feet and fell into the bathtub.

With that thought in mind, she turned down the hall in a much lighter mood. James and Owen had been in the kitchen when she left them, so she hoped they stayed there. She didn't know if she'd be able to find them again.

When she entered that very room, she wasn't met with the two boys. It was less crowded than before, which was less than stellar, because that meant Kristen saw her when she walked in. _Shit_.

Dylan avoided eye contact and pushed herself forward, ready to propel herself to the other side. If she acted like she didn't see Kristen at all, maybe the blonde would get the message that she really didn't want to –

"Dylan, wait!"

– She did not get the message.

She stopped mid-step, cursing her bad luck, and pasted the fakest smile she could muster up on her face. "Kris, hey," she greeted, swinging around.

The blonde's face dropped just enough for Dylan to notice, which wasn't much. "Hi," she said, abandoning her cup by the bottles on the counter. "How… how are you?"

"Fine," she said tersely, and she should've felt bad when Kristen's smile was completely wiped off her face, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. "You?"

Kristen shrugged. "Same old."

An awkward tension filled the room around them, causing Dylan to inspect the ends of her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kristen rock back and forth on her heels. The party raged on in the other room, people came in and out, zigzagging in between them, but still nothing happened. It was weird that the two of them had come to this – they always used to have something to talk about. Now they just didn't.

"Well." Dylan looked down at her phone, where a text from James told her he was in the living room. "I better go find Ja-"

"I miss you, Dylan," Kristen blurted.

"Do you?" the other girl demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you _really_?"

"Of course I do! Why would you even – you're my best friend!"

"_Was_," Dylan drawled. "Was your best friend."

Kristen frowned. "So we're not anymore? Just like that?"

"Do you miss me enough to stop being friends with Massie and Alicia?" the redhead asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You can't just ask me that." Kristen stumbled over her words, looking more and more anxious by the second. "They're – they're my friends too and I'm not going to _pick sides_ because you have something against Alicia-"

"There's your answer, Kristen." Dylan smiled, just a little quirk of her lips, and tilted her head. "Just like that."

While Kristen was gaping like a fish out of water, Dylan made her escape, ignoring the twinge in her heart. Never had the thought of no longer being friends with Kristen crossed her mind, but it was truly for the best. She couldn't hold on to people who would only bring her down.

If Kristen wanted to stay friends with people who let things the boys did them slide, she was someone Dylan needed to stay away from. This year was all about her, light, and positivity. She would not have anyone – even girls she had known her entire life – put her needs and wants second. Let them stay close to Derrick, and Kemp, and Plovert. They'd realize soon enough that was the biggest mistake they made and Dylan would not be there with open arms when it all fell apart. She'd be there to say "I told you so" and that was it.

She shoved her way to the living room, elbowing boys and girls alike when they got in her way. Landon Crane – _fuck him_ – looked like he wanted to say something to her, but stopped, and a random DSL Dater, the one with the ponytail, called her a bitch when she stepped on her toe. Dylan sent her a slinky smile and continued on her way, making sure to shoulder her as she walked past.

The number of people grew as she moved forward; the floor seemed to disappear completely under her heels. Cups were strewn in between feet and a layer of something sticky clung to the wood. She had trouble maneuvering, tripping and stumbling, and almost fell –

_Almost_.

Someone grabbed her before she could wipe out and make a total fool of herself, thank god. She would've thanked them if she hadn't recognized their hand, remembered the feel of the calluses on their skin. She could even smell the familiar cologne amidst the scents of the party: Drakkar Noir.

"Be careful," Cam said softly. "That would've been a nasty fall."

"It would've been," Dylan agreed, "but I think I would've survived." She tugged her arm out of his grasp and hurried over to where James and Owen were mingling with other lacrosse boys and the cheerleaders that fawned all over them.

The moment she arrived, James dropped his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. "What was that all about?" he questioned, nodding to where Cam was still standing.

Dylan looked over at the boy in question, his brow furrowed deeply, his lips in a tight line. "Nothing," she replied. "It was nothing."

.

.

.

"Can you _believe_ her?" Kristen fumed, pacing back and forth. She was furious, infuriated, irate, enraged, and every other word that meant angry. She couldn't pick one nor did she want to. She was so mad every word needed to be used. "_Not friends anymore_!"

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, watching her from his spot on the floor of Kemp's parents' bathroom. Josh was head first in the toilet, the sounds of his retching the background music to Kristen's tirade.

"We've been friends since the third grade!" She gestured frantically, hands and arms flying wildly. "You can't just end a friendship like that!"

"I'm sorry," Chris murmured. "If I had known she would act like this, I wouldn't have gone after Alicia-"

"And that would result in Alicia being ten times more miserable than she already is. Besides, none of this is your fault. It's no one's fault." Kristen swung the sink tap on and filled a cup full of cold water. "Josh, get your head out of there and drink this."

The boy groaned in response, leaning his sweaty forehead on the edge of the seat. He mumbled something Kristen didn't quite catch, but she wasn't hearing things properly with the red hot rage rushing in her ears.

Chris leaned over to massage Josh's neck. "He'll drink it when he's ready to sit up. He's probably dizzy."

"Yeah, well." Kristen pursed her lips, glaring at herself in the mirror. She was glad she wasn't crying – if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop – but she wanted to feel something else other than unadulterated fury. "Dylan's such a baby sometimes, did you know that? I can't believe she won't stay friends with me because of Alicia and Massie. I can't believe she won't stay friends with me because Alicia's happy with you –"

"I can't believe you and Alicia haven't kissed yet," Josh mumbled.

"Shut up." Chris' face turned a bright shade of pink.

This captured Kristen's attention at full force – _finally something to take her mind off Dylan_. She turned away from her reflection, leaning her lip against the sink. "You haven't? Why not?"

"I…" He shrugged, biting his lip. "I didn't want to force her to do anything she didn't want to."

"You don't think she wants to kiss you? _I _think she wants to kiss you. I'd kiss you."

"Um…" Chris kept his hand on Josh's shoulder as the other boy started to actually throw up again. "I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, you know? A lot of things have happened to her and I didn't think throwing myself at her would be-"

"Aren't you two dating?" she questioned, handing Josh the cup when he threw his arm out for it.

"I – no." Chris coughed awkwardly. "I never… y'know, asked her."

Josh wiped his mouth, and all but spilled his water down his front when he sat up straight to look at him. "You _didn't_? Here I was thinking you two have been dating this entire time."

"Why haven't you asked her out?" Kristen pressed, narrowing her eyes. "Is it because she's pregnant? Are you embarrassed to be in a relationship with a pregnant girl?"

"What the fuck – of course not!" Chris snapped. "Do you really – I can't even fathom why you would ask me that. I am in no way embarrassed of Alicia. Not even a little bit."

Josh cocked his head to the side, his face starting to regain color. His eyes even began to sparkle with life again. "Then why haven't you asked her out?"

Chris looked from him to Kristen and back again, sighing. "She's going to say no."

"No? Why would she say no?" Josh looked up at Kristen. "Would she say no?"

The blonde shook her head. "I don't think so. I was under the impression you two were dating, but you haven't even kissed yet, so."

"I think she'll say no," Chris admitted, resting the back of his head against the wall. "I don't think she wants to be in a relationship now since she's… you know, the way she is, and I'm not going to ask if it's going to make her uncomfortable."

"She likes you, though," Kristen pointed out, joining the two of them on the floor. "You guys spend a lot of time together."

"Yeah!" Josh chimed in. "Like, you're always holding hands and sleeping on the same bed, couch, floor, etcetera, etcetera."

"That doesn't mean anything. I could do that with you, Josh, and it would be just as friendly."

Kristen glanced at Josh, who glanced right back at her, and rubbed her face tiredly. "It's not friendly at all. You obviously like her; she obviously likes you – what's the big deal?"

"I _just_ told you what the big deal was," Chris answered. "I'm not going to put her in a position that will make her uncomfortable, alright?"

"You're just scared," Kristen shot back. Really, couldn't he just _do it_? "And I'm telling you not to be, because Alicia will say yes. She likes you a lot, Chris. I would know."

"And I know you like her a lot," Josh added almost unhelpfully. He took a big sip of his water and swallowed it down without much difficulty.

Chris shot them both a withering glare. "I would much rather talk about Dylan right about now."

"I don't want to talk about Dylan," Kristen muttered at the same time Josh said, "Fuck Dylan."

"Yes, but she just basically ended your friendship. You're still upset, right?" Chris ignored Josh's comment, fixing his blue-eyed gaze on Kristen.

"It happened about ten minutes ago, so yes," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "but I clearly said I didn't want to talk about that. I want to know the real reason you don't want to ask Alicia out. Don't give me this bullshit excuse and expect it to work."

"_Like I said before_," Chris began, setting his jaw, "I don't want to put her in any sort of position. We're in a delicate balance with her to begin with; I don't want to make things any harder and me trying to define whatever it is we are will do just that."

"And _like I said before_," Kristen parroted with the same ferocity, "I want to know the _real_ reason you won't ask her."

"That is the real reason, Kristen," he spat out in a stunning change of character. "Now drop it."

She opened her mouth to retort, had something particularly scathing on her tongue, when Chris piped up again, "If we're done here, we have to find Alicia and make sure Massie is okay." Despite his best intentions, the words came out much harsher than they should have.

"Massie?" Josh pulled his lips into a frown and then realization hit him right in the face. "Oh my god, I can't believe I almost –" He shot up, banging his shin on the sink – "_Ow, mother-_" – and raced out of the bathroom.

Kristen got up at a slower pace, eyes still on Chris. He observed her carefully, as if she were some sort of enemy, and went to wash his hands. Josh hadn't puked on him or anything, but still. "I'll get you to tell me the real reason," she told him. "Mark my words, I will."

He snorted. "I'd be terrified if I hadn't already given you the real reason."

"I can tell when people are hiding things from me, Christopher Plovert. I'll get it out of you one way or another."

"If I was hiding anything I'm sure you would."

"You are. I _know_ you are."

"Sure." Chris turned off the tap, shook his hands a few times. "Whatever you say, Detective Gregory." He slipped through the doorway, merging back into the party; it took Kristen five seconds to lose him in the crowd.

.

.

.

At two thirty, the seven of them all somehow ended up in Kemp's dining room, one of the quieter parts of his house. They could still hear the rest of Westchester's youth as they wrecked their livers, but they didn't seem to care anymore.

It had started when Massie sat there, moodily staring at her drink, which was completely devoid of alcohol since she found out going near it made her want to die. Alicia entered shortly after that, sniffing the cup, only to find cranberry juice. Cam was after her, muttering under his breath about how annoying girls were, and he threw himself in a chair beside Massie. Josh had skidded in ten minutes later, throwing his arms around Massie, and apologizing for leaving her alone, was she okay? Chris came next and Kristen was a beat behind him. The two took opposite seats at the table, deliberately looking at each other with narrowed eyes, as if they were sizing each other up. If anyone noticed how odd they were acting, no one commented on it.

Kemp trudged in eventually, rumpled and yawning. "Hello, friends," he greeted, pulling out the only chair left. "How are we on this fantastic morning?"

"Why are you so chipper?" demanded Cam, lifting his gaze from the tabletop to Kemp.

"Someone has to be!" He was only met with blank stares and a scowl from Massie. "Alright," he muttered, "fuck it – wanna go to the diner?"

"This is your house," Alicia said. "I don't think you can just leave."

"Sure I can." Kemp shrugged. "I'll just get up and go. It's not like I'm needed."

"But what if-"

"Nothing's going to happen. That one lamp is already broken and the alcohol is probably going to run out soon, so they'll be outta here before we know it." Kemp ran a tired hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "I can't stay here anymore. I'm going to kill someone if I do."

Chris let out a short laugh. "That's what you get for hosting the New Year's Eve party, man."

"Shouldn't _someone_ stay?" Alicia asked, frowning. "So your house isn't in the hands of drunk hooligans?"

"_Hooligans_," Kemp echoed, smiling slightly, "that's cute. You're cute."

"I'm not trying to be cute," she protested, "I'm trying to be rational. You don't want to just leave your house-"

"I could go for cheese fries," Massie announced, shoving her seat back. "Let's go."

"I knew I could always count on you." Kemp whooped. "I _knew_ it."

"Do you need my jacket?" Josh asked, following Massie out of the room. "Because I don't need my jacket. You'll freeze, I won't. Did you bring one?"

Cam went with them, stalking off in that brooding teenage boy way of his, hands in his jean pockets. Kemp waited for Kristen to stand before the two of them went up to his room to grab her coat.

Chris held his hand out to Alicia, who grabbed it, hers making his feel too large, but extremely warm. "Come on. I'll buy you hot chocolate."

"_Someone_ should stay," she told him, "right?"

"Probably," he agreed, "but that's Kemp's concern, not yours."

.

.

.

**fisherprice  
**I ordered a vanilla milkshake, and a chocolate milkshake, and a strawberry milkshake. I ordered all the milkshakes.

**massieeblockk**  
whoever invented cheese fries u r gr8

**leeshriv**  
did you know kemp knows all the words to story of my life by one direction

**thehurley**  
_leeshriv _I wanna be zayn.

* * *

so, it's midterm week at college and i've already broken out in a rash. it's only tuesday.

despite all that, thank you for the reviews. i enjoyed them. i'm still too lazy to individually reply (and even if i do, i say the same things over and over and i don't like to do that, so) but know i appreciate them all.

there might be mistakes in this because i haven't read this since like last week. sorry! also every tweet i incorporate in this story has been said by either me or one of my friends, so feel free to make fun of us. c:

next chapter is a lot of aftermath. massie makes some life-changing decisions. kristen gets an interesting proposition. something else happens. i didn't get that far.


	4. Chapter 4

"Waaaake up!"

Massie grumbled under her breath, half-conscious, and rolled away from the noise. The sheets were tugged along with her as she snuggled into the mattress, the pillow soft beneath her head. Despite sleep being just a breath away, she was aware that everything smelt like Josh- a warm smell, one she started to recognize as home- and she shot straight up.

She liked Josh, really, but she didn't know how she got here. Here being his bed.

It felt like someone hit her in the head with a hammer; the area right behind her eyes was pounding. The bright sunlight wasn't doing her any favors either.

Josh's sheets were smooth against her legs. She looked down to see a pair of sweatpants bunched up at her knees with the Briarwood crest on the right pocket and seriously wished she could remember her night. There was a momentary flash of French fries and Cam chugging milkshakes, but it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving her dazed and confused.

"I got you Tylenol," Josh said, this time softer, and he dropped two pills in her hand.

She blinked at him, more miserable than words could convey. "You look like you could use it more."

His sheepish smile was what Massie took in first. His face was alarmingly pale, making the bags under his eyes prominent. The whites of his eyes were a little red, too, and she couldn't recall if he had thrown up or not. She knew they had taken twelve shots of vodka last night because she was miserable, but everything after that was a twisted blur, chunks of information missing—like, how did she get from Kemp's house to a place with fries and milkshakes?

There was, however, a sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach for a reason she couldn't name. Something was wrong, or something _felt_ wrong, but why? What could make her feel so… so _insignificant_?

Josh must've caught her confused look. "Do you want breakfast before or after we figure out what happened last night?"

"Do you not remember either?" she asked, icy horror filling her up. If Josh didn't know and she didn't know… who did?

"I remember most of it," he told her. "Bits and pieces are missing, but I'm sure both of us can stitch together some kind of story."

Massie groaned, dropping back on to the bed. "I don't think I want to know." She set her gaze on the ceiling, staring fiercely, even as Josh pushed her aside to flop down next to her.

He pressed his cold toes to her calves and she squealed, the sound sending a pang through her head. "How about this," he started, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you remember... me?"

She reckoned she wouldn't if he hadn't sounded so nervous and out of place. Because of that, the memories hit her like a train. Josh: kissing her, telling her he was gay… and it all made sense. For a little bit, at least.

She nodded and Josh wet his lips. "Do you still feel the same as you did last night? Without all the alcohol in you?"

"_Of course_," Massie spat out. "Why would you—even _think_… It doesn't matter. Not to me. And if anyone has a problem with it, I will punch them in the _eye_."

Josh let out an anxious breath and pushed his face into her neck. His skin was hot as he spoke. "That's Kemp's job, unfortunately. He signed up as bodyguard long before you knew."

"Right." She ran her jittery fingers through his hair. He sighed like a thousand weights were lifted from his shoulders. "Kemp knows. So does—was it Derrick?"

His name sounded foreign on her tongue, like she hadn't said it in forever, even though she knew it hadn't been that long. That feeling in her stomach returned at full-force again. She felt almost nauseous, like the mention of him made her sick. She still couldn't figure out why.

"Yeah," Josh whispered. His breath tickled her. "He just makes stupid comments mostly."

"Naturally."

The boy attached to her shifted, his body moving so he could look at her. "Speaking of… uh, him, do you…" He broke off, looking angry with himself, and then blurted, "You cried." Swallowing roughly, he added, "Sorry, that wasn't exactly the most tactful way to tell you."

"I _cried_?" Massie demanded. Red-hot embarrassment crept up the back of her neck; she wanted nothing more than to curl up into herself, folding over and over until she disappeared completely. "I did not."

Josh sucked on his lower lip and nodded once, averting his gaze. He knew just how much Massie hated to show any sort of emotion, but crying was the absolute worst. Her hands started to shake, panic crashing over her like an ocean's wave. She could focus on nothing but her racing heart, trying to regulate her breathing, but nothing was working, not even the yoga breaths she normally used when she lost her cool like this.

She cried. _Cried_. In public. Everyone saw. Everyone _knew_. And she didn't even remember a second of it or what brought that sort of reaction up.

"Why?" she croaked, throat suddenly dry.

Josh looked at her again, but she tilted her head up, focusing on the ceiling again. Her eyes pricked with tears, this time from being overwhelmed; her lower lip twitched. Silently, she prayed to everything good and holy in this world that she would _not_ do it again. Crying was stupid, and she hated it, and she wished human beings didn't have tear ducts in the first place.

"You don't remember, so maybe it would be best if I didn't—"

"Don't pull that shit with me, Josh," she interrupted bitterly. "Tell me."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but with a deep sigh, he told her.

More pieces of the puzzle were falling together, but Massie wasn't sure if that was the greatest thing at the moment. She would rather remain in the dark, only aware that she blacked out, even though blacking out made her feel awful.

Massie wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She was _so_ stupid and that insignificant feeling took over once more. She didn't feel like crying over it—it was obvious she did that because she was drunk—but why? Why was it necessary for him to text _everyone_ but her? It was just a Happy New Year text… he couldn't include her? Was he really that mad?

God, she was so over him.

(Not really. But she had to be.)

"… you went outside and Alicia and Kristen followed you," Josh said, looking at her curiously. "I don't know what happened there—Are you okay?"

She blinked to clear her head, forced a nod. "Absolutely." She should have ended it there, but she _wasn't_ okay, even if it was over something as dumb as this. "I mean, totally. Perfectly fine. It's not like Derrick's the biggest dick on the planet or anything."

"Massie—"

"No. Don't. If he doesn't want to talk to me at all, that's fine. I'm done with him too. Sorry feelings freak me out and I couldn't give him what he wanted. _Really_."

"Don't get upset over something so—"

Massie shot him with a glare. "Something so what?" she demanded, the words slipping out of her mouth even though she didn't want to start a fight. "He's obviously through with me, so I'm the same with him."

"It's not that big of a deal," Josh mustered up. "Derrick was never the brightest, right? We all knew that. He's going through a rough time. It's understandable that he's being a little thoughtless."

Massie scoffed, unable to find words. She wanted to whack Josh upside the head for being so rational; she wanted to take the shoes she wore last night and stab Derrick with the heel. Most importantly, she wanted to do something to herself. Use the pillow as a tool for suffocation, maybe? She didn't know.

Every time she figured something out about herself, her life fell apart. When she was interested in Cam, her mother's affair with the gardener came to light and Claire started to hate her. When she realized she wanted to be friends with Josh (and in turn became friends with the other boys too), Dylan turned her back on her. When she admitted she liked Derrick, he ignored her.

She should probably just stop doing whatever it was she was doing wrong and go with the flow. Maybe all the bad things that happened were signs. Maybe someone was trying to tell her something. Maybe she had to change…

… but change into what?

She thought she was better this year, someone different that people wanted to be around—but that wasn't true, was it? Everyone was leaving her.

There had to be something she could do to stop it all. She had only a handful of friends left at this point. Before she knew it, they'd be gone too, and she really didn't think she could handle being completely alone.

And this… this was all happening because she strayed too far from her main objective. She had never wanted to have a relationship with any of the boys when she entered Briarwood, she remembered, and because she had, Dylan and Claire deemed her unworthy of their friendship. They were examples of what could continue to happen if she put herself first, forgetting her goal.

Massie had hoped that despite being expelled from OCD, the Pretty Committee would still be able to rule from Briarwood. That, unfortunately, was not true; she couldn't even get the boys there to look at her like they looked at the soccer team. She was losing her touch, but she was going to get it back. She was going to prove them _all_ wrong.

And in order to do that, she had to forget about boys altogether. She had to focus on _herself_.

There were merely a distraction, an obstacle to be overcome. Massie would not let them and their mind games deter her like they had already. Once was enough, but twice was just sad. She wouldn't let another boy play with her head; she wouldn't let there be another Derrick repeat.

It was always about power. She might have acted like she didn't want it—and maybe she didn't, she wasn't sure; everything was confusing inside of her—but she needed it. Power would show everyone she wasn't so easily swayed by a good-looking boy, that she couldn't be persuaded by nice eyes and a gorgeous smile.

Trying to be a "better person" didn't work out for her. It was time to go back to her roots, and her roots were sick and tired of being buried in the ground.

"What are you thinking about?" Josh asked.

His voice startled her out of her reverie, and she looked over at him, prepared to snap. The start of this new-but-old Massie would've began then, but as soon as she met his eyes, dark, big, and doe-like, she hesitated.

Despite everything, she couldn't just get rid of Josh. _Josh_. There was no way she could say anything mean to him intentionally, no way she could push him aside as if he never existed. The others were easy—she and Cam weren't super close, not anymore, Plovert was wrapped up in Alicia, Kemp never needed her friendship to begin with, and Derrick… he wasn't someone she wanted to dwell on. He clearly wouldn't miss her.

Josh, on the other hand, was always there. He was a shoulder to lean on. He listened to her cry. He consoled her. He was her rock during her mother's betrayal and everything since then. She couldn't give up on him, not now at least. He had told her something so, so important and revealing. If she decided to enact her plan on him, he'd think she was lying about how she felt, and she was already an awful friend for not noticing his suffering.

She guessed having someone on her side would be nice, if she thought about it, and Josh was constant. He was good. She didn't want to lose him.

He could stay, she decided, but everyone else had to go. It was beneficial for her health.

"Nothing important," she said brightly. Josh's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her sudden change in mood and she smiled at him, hoping she wasn't giving anything away. "What's for breakfast?"

Josh stared at her for a moment, a curious light in his eyes, but when he opened his mouth, all he said was, "I'm an expert egg scrambler."

"Great!" Massie hopped off his bed, her toes warming as soon as they dug themselves in the plush of his carpet. "I'm an expert egg eater."

.

.

.

"Hey. You're not busy, are you?" Kristen asked, running a hand through her hair. A few strands got caught in her earrings, and she tugged at them, balancing her phone on her left shoulder.

Chris responded in the negative, which was odd because the blonde was almost positive he would've been with Alicia, and that fell under the "busy" classification. "What's up?"

"I, well," she stammered, abandoning her hair situation and falling back into her desk chair. "I got this email today. I figured I should read it to you."

"I know we're pretty good friends, Kris, but I don't think we need to share _emails_—"

"You're gonna want to hear this. Trust me."

He let out a little sound in the back of his throat, but silencing all the same. Kristen turned to her laptop, the bright screen illuminating her face. Her room was completely dark, curtains drawn, door shut: The perfect environment to nurse a hangover.

"It says…

_Kristen,_

_I know Briarwood Academy is the least of your concerns during your winter break. I normally do not contact students during this time unless the situation calls for it and I'm sure you can tell it does. Our student council needs a new president. I have looked at your transcripts from Octavian Country Day and it is clear you are more than qualified for the position_—"

"Wait," Chris interrupted, "they want _you_ to be the president? Of the school?"

Kristen sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, breathing deeply. Her light eyes skimmed the words again—it must've been the fourteenth time in the past ten minutes she'd read them—and she murmured, "Did you know they were going to replace you?"

"Yeah." On the other end, Chris dropped to his bed. His head pounded right between his eyes. "Don contacted me a few days after I got suspended, but I knew. Student council members are supposed to be role models or some kind of shit like that, so if you break the Code of Conduct, you're out."

"But does he know the situation?" Kristen demanded, fiddling with her ear again. "Does he know _why_-?"

Chris snorted. "The situation doesn't matter. I could've saved, like, a child from a burning building but if I punched Danny in the face to do it, I'd still be off of the council."

"That's the worst example I've ever heard."

"I'm not kidding," he told her, sighing. "It doesn't look good if the school gives their president and vice president and the rest of them special treatment, no matter what the circumstances are. The other students would think they could get away with the same thing, and then when they don't, they'll call it favoritism—it's a big thing. Annoying, too."

"Yes, but—"

"What's the rest of the email say?"

Realizing she wouldn't win this argument, Kristen turned back to her computer. "Just that he's not _handing_ it to me. He wants me to come to a meeting with the other members and, like, talk it out, I guess. See if they're down to have me."

"And?"

"I'm not gonna do it, Chris." She tucked her feet under her butt, spun around in her chair until she was dizzy. "It's a nice gesture, but no."

She heard him sit up. "And why not? Don't you want to get all of your extracurriculars back since you dropped tutoring?"

"You saw what happened with the soccer team."

"This is different."

"Is it, though?" she asked, rubbing the skin between her eyes. She could feel a migraine coming on ... and just when she had thought she was done with headaches for the day. "I'm stepping in, taking someone's thunder, making boys mad at me for doing things _they_ should be doing. I don't think I can handle getting punched in the face again."

Chris inhaled sharply, like he was irritated. His voice was amicable when he responded, though, but Kristen couldn't help wondering if he was annoyed with her. They did have a disagreement last night - she should apologize for that when she got the chance. Drunk Kristen had been so out of line. And nosy.

"The student council isn't soccer. They're not going to get angry you're taking one of the spots. It's not like they're going to get their asses handed to them by a girl," he explained. "Because that's what you did when you were on that field: You showed every boy out there that you could play the game our way and beat us at it. That's why they hated you. It's not going to be a win-or-die-trying kind of thing if you're on the council."

"Chris, I don't really know if this is a good idea," she disagreed again. "I was trying to keep a low profile this time around. Take my classes, pass, try not to make anyone's hit list - you know, normalcy."

"The student council's a mess. There's only one decent guy on it and he's the treasurer. The school _needs_ you. You're probably the only one who can get us out of this funk and fix the budget problem Landon Crane left us with."

Kristen bit her lip again (at this rate, she was going to worry a hole right through it). "I mean, all you need is some really good fundraisers and events, like the Valentine's dance, and that powderpuff thing you were talking about... It's not that hard to set something right once it's been turned upside down."

"Yeah it is, Kris," he said. "It's easy for _you _but not for everyone else. You've got the brains and determination for leadership. It can't hurt to go, can it?"

"It can if they end up wanting me to join." She sighed, feeling as if she were growing older and older by the second. "Especially since I won't be voted in and it will look like ... like Dean Don is trying to prove a point or something. I don't want the only reason I get offered this position to be because I'm one of the four girls in the school."

"Believe me, it's not."

"How do you know though?" she demanded. "How can you be so sure?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders, making a face at his ceiling. "I can't be, but I think you should go, hear Dean Don out, see what the council is like, voice your concerns. Kristen, give it a chance. You can't make any decisions without getting your feet wet first."

"Chris-"

"I'm running out of reassuring things to say," he interrupted. Kristen let out a surprised cackle, the sound beginning and ending way too fast. "Stop searching for negativity all the time. Not everything is going to end up like the soccer team did. There is no Hotchkiss to attack you for holding a position such as this one. _Go_."

Kristen took a deep breath, staring at the pile of books on her nightstand. From her desk, she could see her World History book, her Chemistry book, and her agenda, which was covered in her tiny writing, clearly spelling out all of her assignments. She was silent for a while, listening to Chris' breathing; it was solid, strong, comforting. Then, she spoke: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded to herself, exiting out of her school email. "I'll go, see what it's about. Like you said, it can't hurt."

"Exactly," he agreed breathlessly, "and... just to let you know, the Vice President is Owen Crawford."

"_Owen Crawford_?" Kristen echoed. She knew that name, she was sure of it, but she couldn't place it. The four syllables made her skin crawl, though, so he wasn't exactly a _good _guy... but why?

An affirmative sound came from Chris' mouth, ringing in her ears. "He's James Ridder's righthand man."

Oh. No wonder she felt like bathing in acid. James Ridder was the one boy Derrick had warned her about, the boy he practically begged her to stop talking to - not like she was in the first place. He was also the boy that Dylan was with; she saw them together a couple of times over the break and even in public, they had been wrapped up in each other. It made sense that she associated his best friend with dislike.

"I don't know if you know much about Briarwood, but the lacrosse team and soccer team have the biggest rivalry."

"I know," she told him, remembering Cam and James' altercation in September, "Derrick asked me to stay away from James when he started talking to me in math in the beginning of the year. I've steered clear of him ever since."

"Owen's just as devious as James, if not more," Chris added. "Don't believe a word he says and always, always question his motives."

"I worked with girls back at OCD, Chris," Kristen reminded him. She swallowed down a yawn, unable to believe she was tired again; she woke up almost three hours ago. "I never trust anyone."

"Just be careful, Kristen, please." He sounded genuinely worried, like he wasn't sure she could handle herself. She could. He and the others had to understand that. "He's not the greatest of people."

"Relax. I'm not even sure I'm going to do it. Or get it." She stood from her desk area, padding over to her bed. The blankets were falling off the side of the mattress, sheets tangled at the foot of the bed. She wanted nothing more than to fall back into it, burying her head beneath her pillows, and ignoring everything for a good forty-eight hours.

"But you will," Chris said softly. "Of course you'll get it."

Kristen snorted, crawling into her down comforter. It was soft and warm against her exposed skin. "I don't know."

"If he asked you personally, it's because he thinks they'll accept you. I don't think he wants to go through another school-wide election so soon after the initial one. It'll seem like he's incapable of picking the right students for important positions."

"There could be other people he's asked." The sporty blonde pressed her cheek against her phone, pulling the blankets up and around her, cocooning herself. "I might not even be the only option."

"Sure," he played along. She could hear it in his voice, the way he didn't agree with her. He was adamant about Kristen being the only choice to fill his spot, and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps he knew more than she did, but right now, she wasn't concerned about it. "You'll all be there - when's the meeting anyway?"

She breathed in deeply, racking her brain. "The Tuesday we get back. During lunch."

"Okay. They'll be talking about dance and the powderpuff thing. Both are in February. We were trying to find times to meet with OCD's student council. The secretary hasn't gotten back to us... At least she hadn't when I was still around."

"Mm," Kristen mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. "They'll want to send emails out to the girls before February to see if they want to do it..." More words fell from her lips; she was aware of trying to say something, but she wasn't able to understand them. It sounded garbled.

Chris said something, his baritone vibrating in her ear. She didn't know what it was.

"I'll go," she mumbled. "Ignore Owen because he's weird. See what they're doing wrong. Also, I'm sorry for what I said to you last night, it's totally fine that you haven't kissed Alicia, okay?"

He laughed, told her to talk to him when she woke up, and Kristen assumed what she thought she said didn't sound the same out loud as it did in her head. She heard the phone click off, Chris' breathing no longer on the other end, but she didn't move her phone. She stayed where she was, face against the touch screen of her Droid, and fell back asleep. She only hoped - fleetingly, of course - she didn't text or call anyone while she lied like this.

.

.

.

It was one of those rainy days where sleep overtook Derrick's every sense, crippling him of his desire to get up and move about. From his bed, he could hear the raindrops pelt his window, could smell the way the air changed with the weather, and, if he lifted his head, he'd be able to see the water race down the glass. He remained buried in blankets, almost suffocating with how tightly he was wrapped in them, and hoped unconsciousness would return to take him away from this dull reality.

He really had no problem with rain; in fact, he found it quite calming, the way it made him feel relaxed all day long because the sky was darkened and the clouds covered the sun. It was in France that there was an issue. Normally, his grandmother would have the entire family up at seven to do some ghastly activity that required tons of walking, making them all so busy they could hardly remember their names. With the weather in this state, she had no plans for them besides the typical movies and pajamas all day thing, and that was not very beneficial to Derrick's mental health.

He needed to be occupied at all hours of the day or else his mind wandered. It wandered so much he felt like he was drowning, overcome with all of these thoughts that wrapped around him like anchors, keeping him down while the rest of the world continued to speed past him.

He was the reason his family was here, in a different country, for little under a month. He stood up to his father after who knew how long, and now the Harringtons were under investigation. His sister was miserable. His brother hated him. His mother looked more and more worn out as the days went on. His grandmother did everything she could to keep them in check and happy, but it wasn't working, not really.

On top that, there was the drama back home, the stuff that didn't revolve around his family. He completely abandoned Alicia in her time of need, leaving her sad, scared, pregnant and utterly homeless - some best friend he was. Josh was gay, not all of them knew it, and for some reason, the lacrosse team was determined to out him. Dylan was doing something stupid, not talking to Alicia, or Kristen, or anyone, and instead spending time with the lacrosse team they hated. And then…

And then there was Massie.

_This_ was what he wanted to forget. He loved her last year, he loved her now, and she didn't love him at all. She used to, she said, but not anymore, because he was an idiot and dumped her when things started to get serious and frightening. Derrick didn't know if she knew that or not, didn't know if she let him explain thoroughly. Probably not.

Even in fucking France he couldn't get her out of his head.

There were more important things to worry about - the state of his family, for one - and he was busy mulling over his nonexistent relationship with a girl who could give two shits about him. He had done so well pretending she didn't exist. He kept himself in check for so long when his mind started to wander towards her, pulling back before he could remember just how awful it was to have feelings for someone who didn't return them. Massie was the one thing he wanted to ignore when he got to France. He wanted to focus on what was really going on, on how the police were looking into the soccer team to see if his father treated them as badly as he treated his family - and they were bound to get answers that would ruin the entire Harrington family name - but it was like he couldn't push past it. Couldn't push past her.

Derrick wanted to call her, wanted to tell her everything. He planned the whole conversation out in his head; he'd tell her it was okay to not love him, that he didn't need to hear it, that it wasn't worth it - and sometimes, he even got as far as dialing her number.

Never once did he got through with it. As easy as it would be to say it all, he didn't want to. He didn't want to give in like that. He told her something that made him utterly vulnerable, and she brushed it off, hiding in the bathroom. If they were to have this conversation again, he wanted it to be real, raw, and without time to formulate responses. He wanted the stutters and the inability to form words. He wanted the Massie he knew, the one that didn't care how she looked on Sundays, the one that ate the whole first helping of Inez's tacos, the one that let down her guard in front of the people she cared about. She was giving him nothing but Pretty Committee Massie, who ignored problems until she could come up with the ultimate solution, who plotted and planned, who spent hours trying to be perfect.

He made the mistake of telling that Massie he was in love with her. He wasn't going to do it again.

Or, if he really had to think about it, he wasn't going to do it again in general. It was clear she didn't care - not about him, at least - because all she ever texted or called him about was herself. _Are you mad at me?_ she asked. _Listen, I'm sorry if I didn't give you what you wanted, but you can't spring that up on a girl and then, you know, go to France and ignore her!_

She knew why he was here. Hell, the entire town knew why he was here. Did she ask him how he was or how his family was doing? Did she want to talk to him for the sake of being a friend? No.

Alicia called the second he told her he was going away. Cam stopped by his house before he could even start packing. Josh fucking _emailed_ him. Even Kemp, who wasn't one to get all mushy, sent him this text message that told him everything was going to be okay. Granted, he threatened to beat the shit out of him for not talking about his father more, but still, the thought was there.

Massie didn't care about anything but herself and making sure she had everyone in the palm of her hand, and he shouldn't care either. He really shouldn't be so caught up on her, especially when there was so much going on. Especially when she wasn't caught up on him.

He hated rainy days.

A knock on his door kept him from traveling too far in the depths of his mind. He didn't respond, opting to bury himself in his blankets once more, hoping whoever it was would go away if he refused to make a sound.

Unfortunately his prayers were not answered and his door was pushed open, the blonde form of his sister visible in the doorway. She was frowning, as she always was when she thought something was important, and he didn't have to say much before she was speaking.

"Why are you locked up in your room?" she asked, like she didn't know, and Derrick remained silent, still wishing she would leave.

She didn't. "Because both you and Patrick are being idiots and I want to have fun. I know we're here for reasons other than that, but we _need_ to remember the good things in life, you know?"

"There is nothing good about this," Derrick mumbled, shoving his face in his pillow.

"_Nothing good about this_?" Her less-than-graceful foot falls were heard as she stepped across the room. "We're in _France_, Derrick."

"So?"

"_So_?" she cawed, shifting his mattress with her body weight. He wanted her to go away. "France, Derrick! We used to love it here. You wanted to come to Grandma's house all the time! And now… and now you're in your room constantly. Only mingling with me when it's convenient, like when you want to get drunk and need me to buy the alcohol. Get out of his funk, Der."

The youngest Harrington snorted. "I'm not in a funk. This is my personality."

"Bullshit," Sammi countered. She pulled his pillow out from under him; Derrick kept his cheek smushed against the fitted sheet. "You're lively. Fun. A pain in the ass. This is none of those things."

"Maybe that was a funk. Maybe this is who I truly am."

"A brooding asshole? It doesn't suit you."

"You just said I was a pain in the ass."

"The good kind of pain in the ass!" she insisted. "I want to hang out with that Derrick. You literally make me miserable just looking at you right now."

"Good." Derrick turned, looking at her out of corner of his eye. "Leave."

"Absolutely not." Sammi crossed her legs pretzel style, narrowing her light eyes at him. "I want to know what it is that got you all pouty like this and I want to know how to fix it."

"Well, in that case…" Derrick rolled his one visible eye. "No."

Sammi frowned, glossy lips turned downward. She almost always looked like a puppy after it's been kicked when she did that thing with her face. "Come on, Derrick, I'm good at this stuff. I can help."

"Do you have a way to erase my memory?" he demanded. "Copious amounts of alcohol? Get me so drunk I puke all over myself. That'll do the trick."

"I'm not having a repeat of last year's Fourth of July party."

"No?" Derrick mocked, rolling over to hoist himself up on his elbows. "I have such fond memories of that night."

"You don't even remember it."

"_Exactly_."

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

Sammi sighed loudly and angrily, hitting him with her best glare. Derrick only smirked, nothing too serious because honestly, his heart wasn't in it, and dropped back on the mattress once more. He stared at the ceiling for as long as it took her to compose herself. There looked like there was a bug in the corner, but it was also possible for it to be some form of lint.

"Everyone in this house is pissing me off," Sammi bit out, messing with her hair in frustration. "Mom's mood swings are through the roof, Grams has a fucking itinerary of things I _don__'__t _want to do, Patrick's brought a different girl home every night, and you're turning into a pathetic waste of space."

"Charming," Derrick quipped, still scrutinizing this bug-lint-thing on the ceiling.

"_Talk to me_," she all but begged. "You used to do that, you know. All the time."

"You want me to talk? Okay." The darkish form moved, but it could've been Derrick's imagination running wild. Later, he'd get on a chair or something and really give that corner a good once-over. "I told Massie I'm in love with her and she didn't say anything. Our father is in jail for abuse and I'm not sure if Mom will testify against him or even press charges. Patrick told me yesterday he wants me to drop dead because I ruined the family or some shit like that. I think I'm allowed some time to wallow."

"You're in love with Massie?"

"_That__'__s_ what you decide to focus on?"

"The rest of it is crap we can't do anything about. Our family was bound to get exposure like this eventually. Patrick will get over himself; he's just upset he never saw it. You know he's had his head up Dad's ass since he was eight. This Massie thing…it's probably the most interesting tidbit I've heard in the three or so weeks we've been here."

"You mean you don't find the history of the Eiffel tower exhilarating?" Derrick teased. "Because I, for one, plan on asking Grandma to tell me all about it again."

Sammi whacked him in the shoulder. "You're in love with Massie," she said. "Since when?"

Derrick seemed to deflate, slumping back down. "Since I was probably, like, twelve, but it doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"Why not?" His sister leaned her chin on her fist, fixing him with an intense stare he could feel even though he wasn't directly looking at her. He hated how she seemed to be able to see right through him.

When did she go back to college again?

"Because," he muttered. The rain outside lessened from downpour to drizzle. "She's not in love with me."

Sunlight pushed its way through the dark clouds, attempting to light the world. Derrick wanted it to go away. There was nothing worse than trying to be miserable when it was nice out.

"Why not?"

"I'm not her, Sam. I don't know." He sighed noisily. "I don't want to talk about her either. The point of this trip is to forget all about the shit going on back home. I literally need to erase her from my memory."

Sammi wrinkled her nose at his dramatics. "Can't you just talk to her?"

"No. She won't listen to me. If I try again, she'll just go hide in her bathroom," he muttered bitterly. "I fucked up last year and I fucked up this year. Maybe I should take the hint already."

"And what hint is that?"

"She's done with me, so I should be done with her."

Sammi snorted and Derrick turned his head to shoot her the nastiest look he could muster. She giggled, completely unperturbed, and said, "You're the most dramatic person I've ever met."

"I'm about eighty percent sure your best friend in high school was more dramatic than me. Didn't she win that superlative? Isn't she, like, a drama major? What the hell even happened to Rebekah?"

"We're talking about you, Derrick, not my friend," his sister reminded him, "but yes, yes, and she's in California, remember?"

"Nope. Not even a little bit."

"Anyway, Derrick," Sammi went on, almost as if he didn't speak and he pursed his lips, prepared for the lecture, "don't just be 'done' with her. That's not going to do you or her any good. If you're as in love with her as you say, you're going to be miserable…just like you are now."

"And what am I supposed to do, Sammi?" he demanded. "Tell her again? Wait for her to finally have something to say to me? I've given her too many chances already."

"I'm not saying you should wait for her. Absolutely not. You should, though, remember that she's friends with your friends and you two were friends, too—"

"No," Derrick cut in, "we were never actually friends."

"Whatever," Sammi waved him off, "sometimes people just aren't meant to be together, you know? Try the friends thing, Derrick, and don't give me that _I don__'__t want to _bullshit, okay? I know you. You can't just go from seeing and interacting with her to ignoring her cold turkey. You'll drive yourself up a wall."

"Maybe that's the problem here," the boy mused. "Maybe she has too much power over me…and she doesn't even know it."

"You're sixteen. Of course she's going to have too much power over you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

Sammi stood, stretching her arms over her head, and twisted her body in the direction of the door, like she didn't come in here earlier to try to rouse him out of bed. "There's always going to be _that_ girl. She's going to rip you into pieces and then all those little pieces of you will fuse back together when she smiles. She'll be everywhere and nowhere; you'll never escape her, but you won't mind."

"Mom said almost the exact same thing to me last year," Derrick huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mom's always right," his sister told him, "remember that."

She disappeared down the hall shortly after that, and, in order to keep his mind from spinning even more than it already was, Derrick pulled a chair to that corner of the room to investigate the gray dot on his ceiling.

It was definitely _not_ lint because lint did not _jump out_ at people and he screamed, batting at his face to get it off of him. He didn't like the way it felt, or the way it almost caused him to lose his footing, and it needed to _die_, so he chased it around his room for what felt like forever and a day.

It was the unmanliest thing he had ever done, but at least his thoughts were free of Massie.

That is, until he remembered ten minutes later.

* * *

i literally just got a new computer and i don't know how to use it. i'm driving myself up a wall pressing buttons and figuring it all out.

sorry if this chapter's a little boring, but ya'll wanted to see derrick and he's stupid. and i didn't want to rush getting them back to school, but that should be in the next one or two chapters.

lemme know what you think of this!


	5. Chapter 5

**note:** you might hate me for this.

* * *

Alicia tugged at her skirt, fingers tight, knuckles white, and heaved a sigh when the rough material didn't move in the slightest. Her reflection in the mirror showed a terrified girl with pale skin and wide eyes in an outfit that didn't seem to fit her anymore — she wasn't sure if she was actually getting bigger, but it felt like it, and that made her want to change out of Briarwood's mandatory uniform and in to sweatpants. Unfortunately, that wasn't the dress code.

She was all about the layers this time around. A navy sweater was over the white button-down, the collar a bright contrast against the material. The skirt looked too short, the tights she opted to wear felt as if they were sticking to her, and the socks were itchy. This entire outfit made her feel like a whale; every angle in the mirror showed her worst nightmare.

School started in a little under two hours and she wanted nothing more than to curl back into bed, hiding from the rest of the world for just a little bit longer…or maybe nine months longer, if absolutely possible.

If Danny knew about her current situation, everyone did, and the bold and brazen Alicia Rivera was not capable of facing them. Not anymore. Her hands shook, her breathing was irregular, like she was hyperventilating.

Chris was still suspended, Derrick was still in France — no one was honestly in her corner. Sure, Massie was the picture perfect best friend, who would snap at anyone who even looked at Alicia the wrong way, but it wasn't enough. She was going to be made fun of, taunted, ridiculed…treated just like she used to treat other people, and she was sorry, so, so, _so_ sorry she had the power to make people fear even going to school. If she had known even a little bit what it was like to be on the other end of her cruel words and so-called witty comebacks, she would have stopped immediately.

But she hadn't known and now she was about to experience it firsthand. She was sure of it.

There was no way she could go back and sit with all of those boys, but she had to. Not going was a sign of weakness; she was only weak when she was alone, or with people she trusted, never in public. She _had_ to get through this, show them they were wrong (even if they were right).

Alicia took a deep breath, eyeing her reflection once more. "You are strong," she told herself firmly, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Nothing they say will get to you. You're better than all of that."

The words sounded flat, her eyes lacked their sparkle, and the clock on the dresser read 6:45.

She filled her lungs again, urging herself to be inspired. "You are _strong_, Alicia," she repeated. "You will make it through this day, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and all of the rest of them. No one will bring you down — you _are_ a queen."

Well…it was better than the first go. She lined her eyes with black, pinched her cheeks for a more natural color, and the clock now read 7:00.

It was time to start moving.

Alicia grabbed her backpack, hoisted it over her shoulder, and exited the guest room. It was still ugly and bare in there, without a bit of her personal spice, but there was nothing she absolutely wanted to put around her. She'd managed to save her stuffed Eeyore — or, really, Chris had saved him. He was the only thing she salvaged from her home. Her posters hadn't been all that important to her, even though Massie had given her the okay to decorate the room as much as she would like.

Living in that room made her feel like she was vacationing, staying in a hotel for a short amount of time. It was hard to believe she was going to be there for more than just a week.

Downstairs, the breathtaking aroma of Inez's cooking made her stomach flip uncomfortably. She was hungry, but nauseous, and she was afraid that either way, she'd end up vomiting. In all honesty, she didn't want to throw up on someone's back again — poor Brian or Bill or whatever his name was asked to have his seat changed and Cam had to take his place. It was still embarrassing.

She padded into the kitchen, determined to find some toast. Toast was safe.

"Good morning, Alicia," William Block greeted. She jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to where he was seated at the table, a plate of fruit in front of him. "Are you ready to go back to school?"

"Not particularly," she responded, snatching a plain bagel with butter from the island. "I'd much rather sleep."

"If only we were all awarded that luxury," William agreed, folding the newspaper he was reading in half. The morning's headline screamed up at him, something about another suspicious murder somewhere; Alicia wasn't concerned.

Instead, she was focused on removing as much butter off her bagel as possible, wiping it off with a napkin. She didn't want the spread to sit in her stomach and make her feel even worse than she already did.

"I took off of work the twenty-sixth," Massie's dad was saying, and she nodded although the words weren't really registering. There was now butter on her thigh. "That way, I can take you to the doctor."

The word 'doctor' made Alicia's head shoot up, and she furrowed her brows at William. "What?"

"I saw that you were added to our calendar." He inclined his head towards the glossy pages pinned to the wall by the fridge.

Massie had told Alicia about her father's new way of trying to figure out where the two of them were going to be all month so they could sit down and have dinner together once and a while. She had handed her friend a marker — blue, to be specific — and told her to put all the things she was doing up there too to make it easier for everyone. It was a cute idea, and from here, Alicia could make out Massie's commitment to something on Thursday.

"Yeah," Alicia said. She was only on there a few times, seeing as she had zero extra-curricular activities and dance wasn't a priority anymore. She had the doctor, plans to go to the mall with Kristen (and Massie, if she was free), and the day that Derrick came home circled about eleven times. With an exclamation point directly in the middle of the square.

"So I took off the day you have to go back to the doctor," William told her again, biting into a cut-up piece of melon.

The Latina frowned, picking apart her breakfast. The pieces were small enough to pop into her mouth, she just didn't want to eat them. "Why?"

"I'd rather you not go alone," he explained. "Being pregnant is scary enough, but when you're fifteen? It's gotta be the worst then."

"You…want to go with me?" she asked, the insane urge to cry making it hard to swallow.

"Of course I do."

"But…aren't you mad that I'm like this?" Alicia inquired softly. "How could you want to go with me?"

"This is not something you should have to do by yourself." William's face was kind, his eyes seeking hers out. "It's overwhelming. You're going to need someone. And I'm upset this happened to you, but under no circumstances am I mad. I wish you had been a little more careful, but being angry at you is not the way to handle something this severe."

"Tell that to my parents," Alicia muttered.

"They're scared and upset. They don't want to see their little girl in a situation like this. Even when you're old enough to want a baby, it's still going to be life-changing. For you and them."

"They kicked me out of the house," she reminded him, sniffing. "I get that they're scared and upset, but don't they realize I am too? I just needed someone to be there for me."

"You can count on me for that," William said. "I'm in your corner one hundred percent."

"But…" Alicia swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Why would _you_ when my own _parents_ wouldn't?"

William held her gaze again; Alicia felt herself calm down with every passing second. "Not everyone reacts the same way to the same thing," he reminded her gently, and she knew he was right.

Here he was, telling her he was going to take off work to accompany her to her appointment — he wasn't her father and he had no actual reason to go except that he _wanted to_. Her parents couldn't even give her as much. Maybe some people were just better suited for parenthood than others.

" — you have to have at least one adult there for you," he continued on. "I've seen how hard this has been for you…living here, trying to adjust to all of these changes while you fight with the inevitable… I can't make many promises to you, but there is one I'm sure of: I _will_ be there for you through it all."

"But _why_?" Alicia croaked, squeezing a napkin in her fist. Her emotions were all out of whack again, probably because of her hormones or whatever, and she felt herself shudder — in a good way, like she was about to start bawling, but she wanted to. The happy kind of bawling.

She just wished her body's natural reaction wasn't to cry every single time something happened.

"I remember when Massie became friends with you," he said. "The two of you were seven, and I knew your father from the few times the office and his firm had worked together. You walked into this house after school and you and Massie decided it would be a great idea to bake a cake. You almost burnt the entire house down." William looked like he was stuck in a daydream when Alicia lifted her head. "You told me all about how much you hated your bangs at the dinner table, but your mother wouldn't let you grow them out, and that you wanted your big girl teeth to come in because you looked stupid with the front two missing. You've been such a constant in this house, even when you and Massie have had your altercations — I had to listen to her complain about what you did before she realized that she was overreacting. You've been as much of a daughter to me as Massie has been, Alicia. _That's_ why."

"I —" Alicia breathed sharply through her nose, steeling herself. Her eyes stung, but she refused to let her emotions get the better of her, even if what William said was the nicest thing she'd heard in the longest time. " — thank you."

She never thought there would be someone else out there that considered her a daughter. Maybe it was always implied that the Blocks were her second family, but to hear it out loud, to have William say all of that to her — and to have her remember the first time she ever stepped foot in this house — the first seed of hope sprouted in her heart. Maybe she really _could_ do this. She had the support system, friends, people around her to tell her they believed in her. And now she had William, the only man after her father that she had ever fully respected… and he was on her side. He had faith in her, too.

She just had to find it in herself.

"Of course." William stood, bowl empty of fruit now. "I've got a conference call in ten. Have a good day at school." He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair and Alicia froze, unable to recall the last time someone had done something so warm and comforting. "Be brave today."

Alicia watched him maneuver about the kitchen, placing his dishes in the sink, stealing a bit of mozzarella from Inez's cutting board, and then shuffling down the hall to his home office. He spent a lot more time there than he did at his actual office in the city ever since Alicia ended up on their doorstep. Sometimes, she wondered if she was a nuisance, but after that talk she had with him, she felt as if she could never be. Not here.

She remained in her spot for a while longer, forcing bits of slightly buttered bread down her throat, making faces as they settled in her stomach. She didn't want to eat this, or anything, really; she was so nervous. The look Inez was giving her and her continuous suggestions — "I could make you a sandwich for lunch if you'd like" or "There's leftover pasta in the fridge if you want to take it to school" — made her realize she would have to eat something. She couldn't keep food out of her body all day.

There was about half of her meal left by the time Massie came traipsing down the stairs. Her Chanel bag dangled from her shoulder, color-coordinated books and folders peeking from the top. She ignored Inez's insistence on eating breakfast, grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, and waved at Alicia to follow her. They were going to be late, she said, and she wanted to grab Starbucks before class started.

Alicia took a deep breath as she stood to leave. The air shakily left her and she felt a surge of confidence flood through her bloodstream. She _believed_ she could do this, so she could. All she had to do was keep her head up, just like she told herself in the mirror. Nothing anyone said could bring her down, she was beautiful no matter what they said, blah, blah, blah.

Inez pressed a clear baggie of unsalted crackers into her hand, wished her luck, and Alicia was out the door, feeling almost ready for the day to come.

.

.

.

_I want everyone to leave me _**_alone_**, Massie scribbled into the corner of her notebook. Her teacher droned on and on about something in the front of the room and she guessed she should be paying attention, but she couldn't, not when she was trying to figure out just how to go about being a complete bitch again.

She thought it'd be easy to avoid the boys when she returned, but it seemed that they were a integral part of her life. They waited for her, Kristen, and Alicia by their lockers, ended up being in almost all of her their classes respectively, and even knew what each girl ate for lunch. It was getting harder and harder to find ways to ditch them. It was like Massie _needed_ them there.

Which completely and totally sucked.

And made her overall plan a bit harder to accomplish. Her affection for each of them was an added weakness she didn't need; her love for Josh was barely keeping her from drowning and forgetting the whole thing altogether. She didn't need to lose sight of her goal because she maybe liked Kemp, Chris, and Cam more than she let on.

With a heavy sigh, Massie continued to doodle and scribble, drawing houses and cubes and cats in the corners of her paper, stopping momentarily to write the notes on the board on the actual lines. She was in the middle of writing song lyrics when her book was pulled from her grasp and into Cam's hands.

He didn't look at it — he was too much of a nice guy for that — but he closed it, and leaned his hip on her desk.

Massie glared up at him, squeezing her pen in between her fingers. "What?" she snapped, the word icy.

Cam was unperturbed at her tone and she set her lips into a thin line. He should've been taken aback, confused, _concerned_, even. Massie hadn't been mean to any of them in months. That had to mean there wasn't enough fire in her…and that had to change.

"Well," the boy drawled, looking almost bored, "class is over. Unless you want to sit here for the rest of the day, I'd suggest getting up."

"And you absolutely had to take my notebook?"

"Yes, I absolutely did," Cam mocked, tossing it back on her desk. "It's the only way I could get your attention."

"Whatever." Massie huffed, pushing herself out of her seat and wiping her palms on the material of her tights. Cam watched her as she did so, but she pretended she couldn't feel the heat of his gaze on her body.

Instead, she took her sweet time getting ready for her next class…which wasn't class at all, but rather, lunch. _Fantastic_.

"_Today_, Block," Cam grunted, tapping his foot rather obnoxiously. She decided she hated his boat shoes, no matter how nice they looked with his uniform. Cam had impeccable taste when it came to clothes, she had to admit that.

"Relax," she shot back, fixing the headband in her hair, and lifting her bag off the floor. "It's only lunch."

"It's only lunch on _mac 'n cheese day_," Cam stressed, "which is, like, the best day of the entire week."

"So go without me," Massie told him. "You don't have to wait for me."

"What is up with you today?" he demanded, snatching her bag away from her before she could reorganize its contents. He pulled it out of her reach, slung it over his shoulder, and quickly exited the room.

The brunette fought the urge to scream and followed him, footsteps rushed and heels clacking on the ground with urgency. Cam was still ages ahead of her, his legs longer than hers; it took her what felt like forever to reach his side. When she did, he cast a side-long glance at her, and smirked in that annoying way of his.

"Welcome back."

"Screw you," she panted, tugging at the strap of her tote until it slipped down his arm.

"You wanted to once." He let her take her bag and Massie whacked him in the side with it when she was in possession of it.

"You are _so_ annoying," she hissed. "That comment was completely unnecessary."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Unnecessary, but true. Now" — he stopped dead in his tracks, spinning on his heel — "are you going to tell me what's got your panties in a twist or do I have to guess?"

"My — what — no panties are in any sort of twist," Massie stammered, cheeks flushing. God, he was insufferable.

"Right, so this is your typical charming personality?" Cam snorted. "Start talkin'."

"There's nothing to talk about," she defended. "I'm perfectly fine. My attitude is perfectly fine. Let's go eat." Cam remained in his spot, looking just as dubious as ever. "I'll leave you here. I don't care."

"You're going nowhere until you answer me." His hand shot out to hold her wrist. "I will tighten my hold if you try to resist."

"You're doing nothing but convincing me you're a psychopath."

Cam ignored the jab, which frustrated Massie to no end. "I can stand here all day," he told her. "Literally. _All day_."

"Jesus, there is nothing wrong with me. This is who I am, who I've always been!"

"Okay." Cam squeezed his fingers. "So bitchy Massie is back? I'm so pleased."

"I never left!" Massie insisted, using her free hand to pull at the boy's fingers. Even his digits were stronger than she was. "I've been here this entire time, it's just that no one's noticed!"

He chuckled bitterly and with a shake of his forearm, she was no longer prodding at him. "Oh, I've noticed. Noticed that you were a hell of a lot nicer than usual, that is. If your annoying change in behavior has anything to do with Derrick…"

"Not everything has to do with Derrick!" she squealed, her face heating up yet again. "Why does everyone think everything has to do with him? I'm a human being with my own brain and my own feelings — not everything is dictated by that asshole!"

"Ah." Cam hummed. "It is about him."

"I _just said_ —"

"You were never a good actress, Mass."

"It hasn't even been a whole fucking day," she seethed, finally giving up on freeing herself from his hold. She stood there with her arm in an awkward position, mustering up enough energy to fix her worst glare on Cam. "You couldn't even tell if it was a long-term thing. I could be in a bad mood."

"So you're implying it was supposed to be a long-term thing?"

"_No_ —" He couldn't figure out her plan. He couldn't foil it on the first day before she even got it off the ground. Who did he think he was?

"Oh, come on, Mass," Cam cut in. "Like you weren't planning a total makeover right after Derrick left you out of his New Year's text."

"Stop."

"You wanted to forget all about him because he's clearly over you, right?" he went on, like he couldn't tell Massie was having a breakdown right in front of him.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't how it was supposed to go…_

She was supposed to be stronger than this. She was supposed to show them they couldn't get to her anymore. She spent so long perfecting her various impassive faces, trying to go back to the girl she used to be, the skin she grew out of. It still felt weird to make all of these rude comments, to be so blatantly mean…

It was supposed to make her feel better, but it didn't. It only made her feel worse.

And she was so pathetic, not even succeeding in lasting a whole day without losing it because Derrick was mentioned.

"You want everyone to remember the person you _were_, and not the person that cries because the boy she likes doesn't acknowledge her on the stupidest holiday of the year," Cam said, locking gazes with her, making her shiver, because he knew so much. _So much_.

Massie opened her mouth to speak. No sound came out; the words were caught in her throat.

"It's perfectly okay to fall apart sometimes, Massie. You're human. You're allowed to have feelings."

"All I ever have is feelings!" she all but shrieked, her voice echoing in the hall. "I don't _want_ them."

"So you're going to turn into a robot?" Cam shouted back. Massie felt like she was shrinking under his gaze, almost as if she were turning into a four year old who was getting scolded for eating cookies before dinner — even though this was worse. Much worse. "Stop trying to pretend things don't bother you. Did you ever stop and think that life was a hell of a lot easier when you abandoned the whole Ice Queen thing?"

"It wasn't," she spat, even though every word he said rang true and made her uncomfortable. "It only made me vulnerable and I can't afford to be vulnerable. Not now."

"Give it up, for fuck's sake. You're not the Queen, you're not the President; stop trying to make it seem like showing even a sliver of emotion is going to be your downfall. It's not. You being vulnerable or whatever shit you're spewing is _not _going to start a war. Get your head out of your ass."

Massie rolled her eyes, though her heart wasn't in it, not anymore. She hated when people could see right through her. "Why does it even matter? Why do you _care_?"

"Because I _like_ you, Massie," Cam hissed through gritted teeth. "I don't want to see you like this when I know you can be so much better —"

"You like me?" she interrupted.

"I mean, we did have a thing for a couple of months," he reminded her, glancing away. "You can't exactly turn that off, you know?"

"But then, why did you…" She trailed off, frowning. Were boys always this weird and complicated? Was she _ever_ going to understand them?

Cam turned his head, the startling colors of his eyes meeting her head-on; she felt a little woozy at their intensity, but he had always been like that. "I wanted you to be happy and I knew it wouldn't be with me."

"So you just — and Derrick —"

"He's my best friend." Cam shrugged carelessly, but there was something in the set of his shoulders that denied him of that air he was trying to possess. "I'm a dick, I admit that, but I'm also a weirdly selfless person when it comes to him, and…I didn't want him to be miserable either, so I just…stopped."

"But _why_?" Massie stepped closer to him, willingly bring their bodies together, a startling change of events. "Why be that way?"

Cam watched her curiously, but didn't step away. Instead, he let go of her wrist; surprisingly, Massie didn't make to move. "Just because I haven't found that epic love or whatever shit people are looking for — and, like, I'm not, because I'm in high school and I have no concept for what an epic love even _is_ — I'm not going to take it away from someone who has."

"So you're saying I'm Derrick's epic love?"

Her fingers danced across his jawline. Cam's breath hitched as he replied, "Have you not noticed the way you two always end up with each other?"

"It's happened twice," Massie murmured. "It's not some constant thing."

"You're not the one watching the two of you pathetically pine over each other."

"Obviously Claire wasn't your epic love —"

" — thank god —"

" — but who says you haven't found yours already and you're just denying it?"

They were chest to chest now, Massie's face tilted upwards so she could look at him. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink, such a change of pace for him, since he was always the one with the upper hand, and she found it kind of empowering.

"You don't have to be selfless if you don't want to be."

"_Massie_." His warning tone should have snapped her out of it, but she advanced anyway, like she hadn't heard him. "Don't. This isn't what you want."

"I don't know what I want," she said. "I only know that I want to stop being miserable."

"And this is going to help you achieve that?"

"Well…" She licked her lips, caught him staring at the movement of her tongue. "It's a start."

And she kissed him, liking the way his carefully controlled persona seemed to fall apart beneath her. His shoulders were no longer tight. His hands, once tense at his sides, gripped her hips, and pulled her clean against him; their bodies were wound as one. Then, with a sigh, he moved his mouth, quickly taking the lead because, like Massie, he wanted to be control, even when he couldn't be.

Massie slid her fingers in his hair, mussing up his artfully messy style, and his all but tugged her shirt out of her skirt, cold against the burning skin of her abdomen. The farther up they moved, brushing against her ribcage, the more ferocious her kiss was until she was biting down on his lower lip and he was fumbling with the clasp on her back.

"I'd rather not have you rip my clothes off in the middle of the hall," she whispered in his ear. His hands froze, just as his body did, like he was suddenly remembering where he was and what he was doing. "Find somewhere else."

He looked at her, pupils dilated, chest heaving, and a quiet groan escaped his throat. Leaving their things — his backpack had fallen to the ground in the midst of their impromptu make out — in the middle of the hall, he walked backwards, until he all but fell into the bathroom, and then they were back at it.

Massie should've cared about more than just his mouth and his hands, like the fact that they could potentially be _caught_, but she couldn't. She was focused on how stupidly cliche her life was: fooling around with the boy she liked's best friend who she just so happened to fool around with before — in a school bathroom. It was no janitor's closet, _thank god_, but it all but screamed "teen movie."

She didn't care — no, no, no — not even when her hair fell out of its perfect braid, or the top button of her mandatory button-down ripped off. She only cared that Cam had gotten her practically out of her shirt, and he was still in his stupid sweater, and he was pressing a nice trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck. It all seemed to be a distraction, though, what his lips were doing, because he had finally got rid of her bra, like he had tried to in the hall, and she wasn't aware that she had wanted it off that much until it was gone.

But then Cam was shoving it down, doing other things to her body that she'd rather not share with anyone _ever_, and it didn't matter that she was acting like the biggest slut, pressed against a gross bathroom wall.

All that mattered was that he was still in his stupid fucking sweater.

.

.

.

Alicia held the back of Josh's backpack tightly in an effort to keep herself from losing him in the post-lunch crowd. The mob of boys threatened to knock her off her course as they rushed — or, in some cases, sashayed in that irritatingly "cool" way of theirs — to their next class. Luckily enough, Josh noticed and reached back to grab her hand; she slipped her fingers between his.

"Do you mind stopping at my locker before class?" he asked once she was by his side again.

Someone bumped into her, intentionally or unintentionally, Josh didn't know, and she went careening into his side with a squeal. He barely kept the two of them upright, squeezing her hip and stumbling back to balance his weight.

"Uh, yeah," she breathed, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. "I'm gonna stick with you."

"Probably the best idea," Josh agreed, righting her and tugging her down the nearest hallway. "I thought they'd stop doing this."

Alicia inhaled sharply, like she was trying to catch her breath. "They know about…about…" she trailed off, hugging her still nonexistent stomach, looking left and right like someone was going to call her out on it. "And since they know, it's something new they can make fun of me with."

Josh frowned, pressing his lips together in a tight line. The pair wound through the crowded corridors, taking the familiar path to Josh's locker, which just so happened to be a ways from the cafeteria. "Do they really have nothing better to do?"

"Westchester is _obviously_ super boring." Alicia scoffed, swinging their intertwined hands between them. There was once a time when this would've never happened, when she was mad at him for not returning her affections. It was funny how things could change, how quickly her crush on him could fade. "Not only am I the girl that 'begged'" — she air-quoted with her free index and middle fingers — "for it, but I'm now the girl that begged for it and got knocked up because of it. I'm the most interesting person in this town."

"I want to be the most interesting person in this town," Josh whined, coming to a stop in front of a row of navy lockers. He twisted at the metal lock of the one labeled C311, and Alicia leaned up against the others on his right, watching him. "Tell me your secret."

"I just did!" Alicia slightly giggled. "Make some bad decisions and suffer some bad consequences — everyone loves when a girl falls from grace."

"I'm a boy," Josh said absentmindedly, pulling at the lock. It always got jammed, or the twisty dial part of it got stuck. He was convinced it had a mind of its own.

"Fine." Alicia shrugged. "Everyone loves when a _boy_ falls from grace."

The locker didn't open and Josh fought the urge to groan, or start screaming, or whatever sort of outburst his body preferred. He sighed, turned the lock back to zero, and started again.

"If that's true, I think Derrick will have the coveted _Most Interesting Person in Westchester_ position when he gets back."

Alicia hummed sadly. "Have you heard from him lately? Is he any better?"

"He texted the day after New Year's, but other than that, he's been MIA, so I have no idea."

"I hope he's okay," she murmured. "I feel so bad that his whole family is getting exposed like this because his father's a jerk, y'know? It's not right."

"That's this town for ya." Josh sent a quick glance in her direction when a nameless boy got too close to her, effectively stepping on her toes, covered in a pair of Oxfords. "They have to publicize everything."

"So they're definitely making it known, then?" Alicia nibbled on her fleshy bottom lip, looking two parts worried and one part disgusted. "Like, worldwide?"

"Not worldwide, per se, because no one in California or, like, Wisconsin cares about what happens in Westchester, but all around here," Josh said. "Cam's dad works for Channel 7, right? He said once the Harringtons get back from France, it's gonna be nothing but pesky reporters and news stories up the wazoo."

"Derrick's not going to like that."

"None of them are," Josh added, pulling yet again at the lock, this time successfully opening it. "But there's not much anyone can do."

Josh swapped his morning books for his afternoon books as Alicia prattled on about how invasive this was, but he couldn't think of anything to say to her. Derrick's dad was the go-to guy for advertising in the tri-state area; most commercials on television went through him and he had a knack for picking the products that would sell, like the Snuggie, which almost everyone made fun of him for for endorsing. Not only that, but the Harrington name was so well-known almost all of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and a bit of Massachusetts knew who they were. James Harrington was seen as nothing but a good guy for taking over Briarwood's soccer team — and cutting down his own hours at the office — when they needed a new coach, but now all of his dirty laundry would be aired, and everyone would know the truth.

It was going to be nothing short of a disaster.

Shaking his head to clear himself of these less than stellar thoughts about one of his best friends, Josh remembered hearing there was a sub in his health class and they wouldn't be needing their books. He shoved that binder back in his locker, sending a folded piece of paper fluttering to the ground.

He paid no mind to it — it was probably a sheet of notes he shoved in there before break — and continued to search the pigsty before him to find the rest of his things. Alicia, on the other hand, bent down to pick it up.

"What's…" She straightened back up, brushing her hair out of her face. "Who's writing you love letters?"

"Love letters? What are you — ?" Josh's head snapped up and he slammed his locker shut just as the paper was unfolded. The front had his name scribbled on it, a big heart next to the _h._ "Alicia, _don't_."

But her eyes were already scanning the page and Josh could feel his heart trying to escape his chest. Everything was starting to get smaller, the walls closing in, and all that was in the hall was starting to spin, including Alicia. Her eyebrows were furrowed, lips moving slowly as she read the words, and he had the overwhelming urge to vomit. If he was right with his theory, and this was another note from Ridder and his asshole friends, this was not the way he wanted her to find out. These notes made it sound like he wasn't in control, that he was be threatened, and he wasn't even sure what it was that they wanted, but too many people were convinced he needed "protecting" and he couldn't have Alicia thinking that too.

"What — what does it say?" he croaked.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, and blinked. "I… who's writing these things? _You know who_? Are they trying to be Gossip Girl or something?"

"What does it say?" Josh repeated, bringing a shaky hand to his forehead. This was the worst day.

"Um, I don't really want to say…"

"Please, Alicia. _Please_."

"I… okay." She took a deep breath and recited: "'_You can kiss as many girls as you want, but that won't change anything. We know the truth, fag._'" Her voice cracked on the last word and she crumpled the paper in her fist slightly. "What is going on, Josh?"

He pulled at his hair, trying to calm himself down. Why were they doing this again? He thought they stopped, thought they got bored of him before break. "I kissed Massie at Kemp's party and I guess whoever wrote that saw."

"But why would they put this note in your locker? Why would they call you —"

"Because I'm gay, Leesh."

"That's what I was saying when you turned me down, but, like, that was okay, because I never put stupid notes in your locker, and didn't _mean it_, and, like — are they threatening you? Why does this even _matter_? Who even _is_ this?"

Josh sighed heavily. "There's a lot I haven't told all of you."

"Well," Alicia started, handing him the note, "I'm having a miserable time, it looks like you're about to have a miserable time, so… let's skip the rest of the day and get some ice cream and talk about it."

"What is it with girls and talking about life over ice cream?" Josh asked, closing his locker with a frustrated slam.

"I think we secretly love dairy products," Alicia guessed.

Josh forced a snort - that was the silliest thing he'd ever heard - and turned on his heel, headed in the opposite direction of their class. "Let's go then."

* * *

okay, so, kill me all you want. massie and cam weren't cooperating with just going in the confrontation route, so i think they have some unfinished business, and massie just wants attention, and she realized cam would give it to her. cam's had the worst luck with girls and even though he's pretty level-headed, he's not going to pass up an opportunity like that, even if it's in a school. this actually makes one of my plot lines work a lot better than i originally planned out, so... sorry.

anyway, i also wanted to show the two types of parents there are when faced with a teen pregnancy so y'all would understand not everyone gets kicked out of the house.

this chapter was supposed to be longer - i had a part with dylan in it, but i found a different way to incorporate her too, so just wait and see for that!

***please, if you haven't, vote in the poll - it's all tied up and i'm losing my mind trying to figure out what to do!***

xx


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